


Webbed Wings

by L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Lots of Urgal stuff, Peter and Bobbi are basically friends with benefits, Peter gets a dragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-06-11 12:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15315996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n/pseuds/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n
Summary: While tending to the Web of Life and Destiny, the Great Weaver comes across an unusual and lucrative opportunity.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Unexpected Tidings

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

The Great Weaver considered itself a patient being. After all, not just anyone could completely remake their life's work from scratch, after dying (rather, having its essence scattered across the Astral Plane, but still), having an aspect of itself controlled by its very murderers—damn Solus and his cloning technology—to systematically murder its Avatars across the Multiverse, and then a (separate, but still linked to Solus and his genocide) Cataclysm which all but destroyed the Multiverse, and the slow but steady recreation of the Multiverse. Granted, it could leave Karn—the latest and hopefully permanent Master Weaver (a totally different Weaver from itself)—with this particular responsibility; but, Karn had enough on his plate, atoning for what he did under the command of Solus.

The Great Weaver wasn't angry, or bitter, or—Oh! A Peter Parker just turned into a Man-Spider due to the spider bite, killing almost everyone at the science center (Stark Industries; go figure) before escaping into the sewers.

…Perhaps a break is in order.

Thus, the Great Weaver did what it always does when it has (self-imposed) free time; observe the Multiverse.

It gazed upon its various Avatars—from not-quite-exact-copies of the original Kwaku Anansi, to its current favorite, Peter Parker—before blinking (mentally, it had no eyes) at the…well, the feel of a particular universe.

It raised one of its many, giant legs, plucking a strand of webbing to gain a clearer insight into what made this universe different.

Ah…there it is. This universe was always an oddity, inhabited by beings both familiar and unfamiliar, where everyone separates themselves into groups of three in order to fight each other in a very systematic way. Why they did so was beyond it, but it made for—oh, OH! This universe was not like the Great Weaver remembered at all! It must have been completely remade.

Curiosity piqued, the Great Weaver delved deeper into this universe's history, it's beginning…Huh, Lady Death wasn't a skeleton…weird, but not unprecedented. But the true oddity was a demon, Jedah, born in a universe, a Multiverse, separate from its and Leady Death's own.

That was of great interest to the Great Weaver. When the original incarnation of that universe was made (be it by the One Above All, Eternity, Infinity, whoever) the Great Weaver assumed whomever made those other creatures made from scratch, and decided they were too different, too odd, to spread across the Multiverse. But as it turns out, they just stole ideas from another Multiverse entirely.

Now, this got the Great Weaver thinking; why was this even allowed to happen? Crossing Multiverse's tended to be a big no-no; in fact, the only reason another Multiverse and the Great Weaver's Multiverse had semi-regular contact with each other was due to a pair of brothers formed in a joint project between the One Above All and that other Multiverse's top deity—and it was a weird Multiverse too, very fond of imploding and restarting from scratch, not great Web of Life material.

The Great Weaver shook its head, now was not the time to get sidetracked.

It turned back to the odd universe, which it decided to call Universe-30847, and pondered as to why it could exist. After all, outside of unique circumstances, one Multiverse could not coexist with another; and though Lady Death was powerful (and this Jedah character as well, by necessity) neither could amass the raw strength to both break that barrier, and escape retribution.

The Great Weaver frowned, this conundrum would require a great deal of its time and effort.

**Line Break**

Karn considered himself a lucky being. He was lucky to be born, lucky that his family did not kill him (rather, destroy his cloning pods, Daemos was fond of caving his skull in when angered), and lucky enough to be welcomed into the Great Weaver's fold when his family was finally killed; hell, they didn't even come back when the universe reset!

Still, that didn't mean Karn was without his worries. And when he received the short, abrupt mental message, " ** _Come_** ," he was more than a little freaked out.

Still, he did as requested; projecting himself to the corner of the Astral Plane the Great Weaver had claimed for itself.

"Ah, there you are Karn," a slightly accented voice called out, once Karn materialized.

The Master Weaver blinked, "Anansi? What are you doing here?"

The first Spider-Man shrugged, a light smirk on his face, "Same as you, I suppose".

Before either could say more, another aspect of themselves (Karn still had a hard time wrapping his—their?—head around that) made itself known.

A mass of small, black spiders crawled in out of nowhere, pooling together. After forming a pillar a little shorter than Anansi, the mass of spiders bent inwards, taking a humanoid, feminine shape.

Anansi inclined his head, "Greetings, Gatekeeper". Another smirk wormed its way onto his face, "Or is it Ero?"

By now, the being's body had fully formed, and it opened it's eyes, revealing an ominous yellow glow where the organs should be. "Ero," she replied curtly.

"Hello, Ero," Karn stated.

Ero shifted its eye sockets to Karn, before turning to look off into the distance.

Karn grunted, "Still bitter about my brothers killing you, I take it?"

Anansi chuckled, "Perhaps she is still bitter over the fact that cannot be one with Parker, either of them".

Ero whirled around, eyes harshly glowing, a low, dangerous growl bursting from her facsimile of lips.

Anansi's grin only widened, "What, did you think you were being subtle, using the Web as you did?"

Thankfully, before things escalated to the point of blows, a far greater, older presence revealed itself.

Ero immediately turned forward, kneeling low.

Karn shifted his weight as much as possible, bowing as low to the ground as possible.

Anansi crossed his arms, smiling warmly as the Great Weaver materialized.

The Great Weaver looked down at its three most trusted aspects of its power, " **We thank you for coming** ".

All three nodded. Karn asked, "Why have you called us here, Great Weaver?"

The spider deity raised one of its many, enormous limbs. It performed a harsh, rapid slash with the limb, revealing a singular, impossibly large strand of webbing, heading off into the distance.

" **Follow** ," the Great Weaver commanded, traveling up the strand.

Ero immediately did so, dissolving into individual spiders, quickly following the Great Weaver.

Anansi and Karn exchanged looks. Then, the former shrugged, leaping onto the strand, walking along it.

Karn merely hummed, climbing the strand with his spindly limbs.

The trip was much shorter than expected (but then again, distance didn't really amount to much in this plane of existence) and Karn soon found himself at the end of the Multiverse. Well, perhaps end is a bit of an overstatement, the Multiverse was ever-expanding—there was no true end—but there were 'barriers' in place, which signified the end of the Multiverse.

Anansi gazed out into the void, frowning lightly, "Why have you brought us here, old friend?"

The Great Weaver opted for silence. Anansi cleared his throat, but when it became clear he would receive no answer, grunted, tapping his foot impatiently.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, three of the Great Weaver's limbs shot forward, aiming for the barrier.

Karn, Anansi, and Ero all gasped in horror at what the Great Weaver was attempting. It was a, correction, THE unspoken rule of the Multiverse; you DO NOT interfere with the barriers. Even the Beyonder was careful to stay well within the boundaries of the Multiverse.

However, Karn noted with a disturbingly calm mind, the Great Weaver seemed intent on suicide. " _Ah well,_ " the last Inheritor sighed, " _It was a nice life, these last few years especially_ ".

Then, just as Karn was prepared for the Living Tribunal, Eternity, hell, maybe even the One Above All, to erase them from all existence, the Great Weaver's limbs effortlessly slipped through the barrier.

Karn stared wide-eyed at the sight before him. Before he could entertain the thought that this was all a pre-death fever dream, the Great Weaver moved its limbs, causing the barrier to ripple before his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Karn noted his peers' reactions.

Ero, she…melted, for lack of a better term, due to the stress, and was now in the process of slowly reforming herself.

Anansi had paled considerably, and had the most verbal response.

"Huwha-spabu-hamuh—What just happened?!"

" **Isn't it obvious**?" the Great Weaver said in an oddly smug tone.

Ero cleared her throat, "I believe the more pressing matter is why we are still alive?"

The Great Weaver hummed lowly, " **Best we can figure, the One Above All and the Living tribunal are recuperating due to the Cataclysm and reformation of the Multiverse, and are unable to properly enforce; or, on a more optimistic line of thought, the One Above All is allowing this to happen** ".

Karn frowned, "But, why show us this?"

To his side, Anansi drew in a quick breath, "Oh…you wouldn't dare," he whispered, a bemused grin on his face.

" **I think we all know we would, old friend** ".

Karn and Ero quickly caught on, and both had very distinct reactions.

"As you command, Great one".

"Please tell me you're joking!"

Three beings turned to Karn, who gulped, but held his head high, "Assuming the One Above All does not call for our deaths once this comes to their attention, what about any other deities we would eventually come across?"

A booming, chilling laugh echoed throughout their corner of space-time. " **Oh Karn, do you truly believe we would not account for that**?"

**A/N: There is no explanation as to why this exists other than the fact that I got bored after watching a playthrough of MvC:I. That is all. Also, not much Inheritance Cycle shit, but it'll come up soon. Maybe. Who knows? Be sure to leave a review. Later.**

  


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

** Pooling Together **

** Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini. **

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

** Line Break **

Anansi took a sip of what passed as alcohol in this universe, sending a quick smile to the waitress—or whatever a woman who served food and drink in a pseudo-European Medieval age was called—who blushed, quickly averting her gaze and moving on to the next patron.

Suddenly, a low growl sounded from behind him.

Anansi fought to keep his smile from widening as a large man with bloodshot eyes and a just shy of Rudolph-red nose—along with three of his friends, Anansi's 'spider-sense', as the young ones called it these days, warned him—stalked over, moving in front of him.

Anansi cocked a brow, "Can I help you?"

The leader—Rudolph-lite—sneered, "Who do you think you are," there was a slight slur to his words, "you damn desert rat!"

Ah, it was good to know prejudice was a constant in all human societies; granted, Anansi was born and raised in a desert region, but still, it wasn't nice to assume he was from this world's desert country.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't found a map of the country—Alagaësia—and the surrounding areas yet. All he knew was that the town he was currently in—Narda—had the sea to the East, and a mountain range to its West; oh, and there was apparently some civil war going on, but the local populace was being tight-lipped about it.

A quick buzz of his spider-sense brought Anansi out of his musings, and he noticed that now the drunk's three equally drunk friends had moved closer, glaring down at him.

Outwardly, Anansi frowned, "I'm afraid I don't understand your question".

One of the drunkard's friends narrowed his eyes, "You were eyeing his woman".

Anansi feigned a gasp, bringing his hand to his lips, "Oh my, that's your wife?"

Rudy paused at that, "Well, no—"

"Well then you really have no reason to be mad," Anansi turned back to his drink.

A fist slammed on the table, "That's not the point!" By now they had garnered the attention of the rest of the tavern, "It's bad enough you people don't stay where you belong, but now you're helping those damn rebels, and you're eyeing our women!"

Anansi frowned outwardly and inwardly; were these desert-dwellers—he really needed to find a map—mercenaries, a nation of good Samaritans, or a group that sought to use this civil war for their own purposes?

So many questions, so little time; even with millions of spiders at his (well, Ero's, but she wouldn't mind) disposal.

He eyed the four men in front of him; after careful consideration, he concluded that they were reaching the tipping point of their frustration, and they wouldn't give him any more information.

But that didn't mean he couldn't have a last bit of fun.

He clicked his tongue, "I don't know anything about rebels," a smarmy grin wormed its way onto his face, "But I can say that a woman as beautiful as her deserves more than a lout like you".

It took less than a second for the insult to register; it took another second for Rudolph to throw himself over the table, hands curled into fists, face twisted in a crimson rage; on the third second Anansi shoved the table forward with a flick of his finger, catching his attacker's waist, forcing his head onto the edge of the table, and on the fourth second, the man fell into a blissful sleep.

Anansi took a moment to scan the crowd, amused as they tried to process what had happened.

Just then, Anansi felt a small buzz in the back of his skull, and leaned back, falling to the floor with his chair.

Drunk One had swung his mug at Anansi's head, only to miss, and smash the mug into Drunk Two: the mug shattered against his arm, spilling blood and glass all over the floor, the man's anguished cries filling the tavern.

"By order of the Empire, stop this at once!"

Anansi looked up from the floor at the dozen guards marching towards him.

As ten of them went to collect the drunks, two stopped in front of Anansi. With a grunt, the ancient spider stood.

As he stood, however, his spider-sense blared in alarm, which confused Anansi. Though the dozen guards were a threat—nominal as they were—nothing about them equated such a harsh response.

Then, he made eye contact with one of the guards, and suddenly it made sense.

" _Fantastic_ ," he inwardly drawled,  _"A telepath_ ". Time slowed to a crawl, for Anansi at any rate, as he debated his options, as this man's mental presence slowly made its way towards his own. He could let the man fully experience Anansi's immortal mind, but that would make most likely kill his attacker, and lead to a fight—which Anansi had no doubt he would win, but then word would spread of a dangerous, dark-skinned man who could leap dozens of feet in the air and break a grown man's spine with a flick of the wrist; he could run, but that would lead to the same problem as the first option; which left the most peaceful, and aggravating solution, letting the man read his mind.

With a low growl, Anansi let the man sift through his most recent memories.

The telepath—and an amateur at that—was at least quick with his scanning, only delving into the past few weeks (the memories were largely fake, but Anansi took it as a small comfort that he didn't have to drum up any more).

The telepath's presence retreated from Anansi's mind. He looked over to the other guard, "Grab those four; a night in the cells should clear their heads," he turned to Anansi, "We'll talk to you in the morning, once these four are sobered up".

As the guards dragged the drunks away, Anansi stood up, dusting off his clothes. He eyed the guards as they left; he'd have to leave this place sooner than he thought.

"I am so sorry you had to go through that".

Anansi turned, seeing the woman the whole argument was about—and he didn't even know her name!—frantically look him over. Anansi waved his hand between them, "Don't worry my dear, you have no need to feel guilty".

The woman bit her lip, "Really?"

"Truly".

She shifted her gaze down, before looking him in the eyes again, "At least let me get you another drink".

Anansi was about to decline, but a certain gleam in her eyes made him reconsider. Perhaps another night wouldn't hurt.

** Line Break **

"OW!"

Angela shot up from the forest floor, letting loose a string of curses as her knife slipped and cut into her palm. She shook the injured palm, before pulling out a tonic, pouring the liquid on the wound, flexing her hand as the wound healed.

She glared down at the root she failed to cut, kneeling to give it another go. "Stupid Eragon and his stupid blessing," she grumbled, "More like a curse—honestly, the poor girl threw herself in front of a hot pan to save a dog!" She let out a triumphant yell as the root came free, "Hah, last ingredient. Hopefully dulling her nerves will give me more time to try and break that spell".

She pocketed the root, dusting off her pants. "Solembum," she called out, "I'm done here".

She waited a moment, frowning when the werecat didn't come into view. "Hello…Solembum?" She cupped her hands over her mouth, "You can at least acknowledge me!"

She let out a sigh, staring down at the ground. "…He's only going to gripe and moan if you leave without him," she muttered to herself.

She walked ahead, periodically calling out to the creature. After five minutes of mounting frustration, she finally found him, sitting on a log, staring into the tree line.

She harrumphed, "There you are. Did you not hear me?!" She glared down at him, hands on her hips.

The feline jolted, which gave her pause.  _"Huh, wha-sorry_ ," he shook his head,  _"Didn't hear you"_.

Angela frowned, "…Are you okay?"

Solembum tilted his head to the side, " _Honestly…I don't know. Something is…different…about the world at large_ ".

Angela cocked a brow, "What do you mean?"

Solembum stared at her for a moment, before shaking his head, " _I forget that for all your prowess and intellect, you're still ignorant of a great many things"_.

Angela stuck her fists to her side, "Hey!"

Solembum hopped off the log, sauntering back to their camp,  _"Don't feel too bad, not even Tenga has reached the level of awareness Werecats lounge at"_.

Angela scowled at the mention of her former master, "Will you at least tell me what you were doing?"

Solembum stretched, letting out a small yawn, " _Later. Right now, I'm in the mood for a nice sunbath, maybe a fresh fish"._

Angela was about to tell Solembum off for his laziness, when the cat stilled. Just then, his hackles raised, and started to growl lowly.

She froze, "What is it?" she whispered. When she noticed that the forest was completely silent, she cursed her own inattentiveness, and the fact that she didn't bring anything deadlier than a knife.

Solembum grew silent, " _…We're being watched_ ".

Angela grunted, "I gathered," willing her magic to scan the surroundings. She grimaced, "I-I don't feel anything".

Solembum hissed, " _Too wide! Narrow your focus_!"

She rolled her eyes, already in the middle of doing so, but once she had, once she narrowed her range, she stumbled back. "H-how in the…?"

" _Yup…never seen so many spiders in one placet_ ".

Angela took a deep breath, ignoring the rustling of hundreds of leaves above her head, ignoring the color on the tree trunks shift and contort, in favor of developing multiple spells to safely get them out of this bizarre situation, but paused, "Are we…in danger?"

Solembum had calmed slightly, though his fur was still raised to a fine point, and grunted, " _I…don't think so"_.

"Then why…" Angela focused on one of the many arachnids lining the trees, "…There's nothing here, like whenever you and your kind take control of a lesser cat".

Suddenly, the spider she was observing hopped away, causing the woman to yelp.

Before either her of the Werecat could retaliate, however, the hundreds of spiders melted away into whatever dark crevices they came from, until none of them were within one hundred feet of them.

Solembum let out a sigh, " _They're gone_ ".

Angela placed a hand over her heart, trying to calm its erratic beat, "So…that was—"

" _What I was going to tell you about after my nap? Yes,_ " Solembum said. He narrowed his gaze, " _But this is the first evidence I've found of spider's being the source_ ," He sighed, " _I suppose I'll have to tell Grimrr about this_ ".

Angela perked up at that, "Ooh! When you see him, tell him—"

" _No,"_  Solembum abruptly cut her off, heading back to their camp.

Angela pouted, but followed nonetheless.

** Line Break **

Anansi smiled from the branch he sat on as the sun sunk into the horizon, marveling once more at the night sky, specifically, the stars.

"Oh, what stories you must know," he whispered.

A snort sounded off from his right, "You'd find out those stories a lot quicker," Ero lifted her arm, allowing a black widow to form a web off it, "if you took advantage of our little agents spread across the continent".

Anansi chuckled, "Your 'children' are too literal; they take the wonder out of everything!"

Ero scoffed, "This isn't one of your little vacations, Anansi".

The first Spider sent the Other a wide smirk, "I can think of a few lovely young women who'd beg to differ".

Before Ero could retort, a presence made itself known to them. The two locked eyes (technically, at any rate) and nodded.

Anansi hopped down from his spot, and Ero flicked her wrists, shooting out a large amount of webbing, which she arranged into a simple, but ginormous, spider web, hanging between two trees.

A red mist soon seeped out from the center of the web, and Karn burst forth, before climbing to rest on the top of it.

The half-man half-spider shuddered, "I hate doing that".

Ero grunted, "How are things on your end?"

Karn sighed, steepling his fingers, "None of the other higher powers seem aware of what we're up to. A few of the Madame Webs are wondering why the Web is expanding in—as they describe—'odd and unprecedented ways' but I've managed to assuage their doubts".

Anansi clapped his hands together, "All right, let's get right down to it. Is this world viable as a base of operations?"

Ero nodded, "I believe so. Whatever deities inhabit this world are, if not dead, supremely weak; weak enough that one of our Avatars could kill them, if they got lucky".

"Not to mention," Anansi continued, "this Universe's One Above All equivalent, if it even exists at the same capacity, hasn't tried to kill us," the man shrugged, "So we are safe on that front".

Karn hummed, "Well, if that's that, let us move on to brass tacks; choosing an Avatar for the Great Weaver".

Anansi cocked a brow, "What about a tender for the Web?"

Karn paused, then moved two of his spider limbs onto his web, plucking at the strands, "…I can think of two candidates".

"The old man and the girl?"

Karn shook his head, "The girl and the bird".

Ero nodded, though Anansi cocked a brow, "The bird, really?"

"It's already clairvoyant, plus if we can heal its mind, it'll probably be grateful towards us, more likely to go along with our wishes—it's what happened with me".

Anansi grunted, satisfied at the answer, "…Heh, can't remember the last time I was asked to give my opinion on an Avatar for the Web of Life and Destiny".

Ero frowned, "And we have not one, but five distinct races—not cultures, actual races—to choose from".

Anansi smiled, "Yes, isn't it exciting?"

Karn frowned, "Has there ever been an Avatar that wasn't human—or a cartoon animal?"

Anansi's face scrunched up, "There's a horse—though that is more of an extension of that universe's true Avatar—and a…buggy," he sent a sly grin towards Ero, who scowled.

Karn snorted, "Ah yes, 'Peter Parkedcar' I believe. How did you even—"

"It doesn't matter!" Ero stated forcefully.

Anansi chortled, "I didn't think your little obsession extended so far".

Ero whirled around on Anansi, mouth morphed into a jagged set of teeth, hissing at him.

Karn huffed in irritation, grabbing a pair of branches from overhead, breaking them off, and hurling them at his compatriots.

Anansi ducked underneath the projectile, while Ero caught it. When they both turned to him, Karn sighed, "We have a job to do, remember? You can try and kill each other later".

Anansi let out a breath, "…All right, so, five races: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Urgals, and Werecats".

Ero frowned, "What about dragons, and these Ra'zac creatures?"

Karn hummed, "Based on the information you gathered, both are nearing extinction. If their numbers rise, we'll worry about it then".

Anansi nodded, satisfied, "Very well. Though there is something I'd like to touch on once we're done discussing these races". Karn and Ero nodded. "Now," the man continued, "do we want to make an Avatar for each race, or choose a set number from the total populace?"

Ero scratched her chin, "…No more than four in total. We still don't understand the full ramifications of us being here, don't want to mess with the order of this universe too much, not yet at least".

"All right, four maximum. Now," Karn leaned in closer, "From where do we choose?"

Ero crossed her arms, "…Well, let's go down the list".

Karn tilted his head, "Beg pardon?"

"Of the races," Anansi elaborated, "Their unique cultural developments will factor into how our decision".

"It will?"

"Of course," Ero stated, "We wish to make ourselves known, can't do that if our existence will clash with what these people perceive to be true".

Sensing Karn's continuing confusion, Anansi explained, "Think of why we didn't reveal the more spiritual aspects of Peter's powers until after he'd been palling around with gods and alternate realty versions of himself for a few years".

"Ah," Karn hummed, "Otherwise he would have thought he was going mad, or committing some sort of sin—okay, I get it. I assume humans are our default choice?"

Anansi shrugged, "Humans, it seems, are humans regardless of the time or place. Granted, for our purposes it's good that these humans are in a similar enough era to those that started those 'Spider Societies' in our Multiverse".

"Okay, what of these elves?"" Karn plucked a pair of strands of webbing, bringing forth a deep, crimson mist; from the mist a pair of figures—male and female—formed; tall, pale, with pointed ears, angular faces, sharp blue eyes, and hair black as night.

"Pass," both beings stated.

At Karn's questioning gaze, Ero elaborated, "They are immortal beings with natural abilities—magical, physical—far beyond most every other race. And we are not in the habit of empowering the powerful".

"Not to mention," Anansi continued, "They are aggressively agnostic—to the point that a great deal of them don't believe in life after death, though spirits have a documented existence, so either they haven't updated their texts, or they are more arrogant then we believe".

"So, what you're saying is, if we were to choose an Elf for an Avatar, they would have an existential crisis?"

"Precisely".

Karn nodded, "All right, next on the list…Dwarves". He tugged the strands again, the figures melting into mist, reforming into shorter beings. These looked more like humans, though with much shorter proportions; and more densely packed with muscle, even the female. They both had brown hair—and a full beard for the male—and equally brown eyes. "How would they fare?"

Anansi shrugged, "They are polytheists, and deeply religious at that, so it shouldn't be too hard to introduce ourselves. Though, none of their current gods are animals; that might be a bit of a hard sell".

Ero crossed her arms, "They are also fairly isolationist, fond of living underground and within mountains; there are groups of Dwarves that go their whole lives without ever seeing the sun. The only reason they support the Varden—a group of rebels against this country's human empire," she explained to Karn, "Is because their current King—Hog-something—is sympathetic to their cause; and he's pretty old, even by their standards. If he were to die, the Dwarves would hold an election for their next king, and they may not have the same sympathies".

"Hold on," Karn held up a hand, "They  _elect_  a ki—"

"We don't get it either," Ero admitted.

"Point being," Anansi cleared his throat, "If a new king were to decree, 'No more helping those rebels!' the whole race would be forced to comply; honor and duty are big deals with these guys".

Karn frowned, "So the Dwarves are a maybe".

"With any luck, we'd choose a Dwarven Avatar who'd use their newfound abilities to do away with things such as 'national pride'," Ero said with a tinge of mockery, "But it's a tossup".

"Next in the list," Anansi's face broke into a wide grin, "The Urgals".

Karn tilted his head at Anansi's expression, furrowing his brow as he noticed an annoyed expression Ero's 'face'. Tweaking the web, Karn pulled up an image of these Urgals. He recoiled when the images fully developed, struck by just how different they were compared to the other races—which at least looked vaguely human. The two sexes also had more than a few differences. While both had grayish skin, yellow eyes, dark hair, and bowed legs, them males were…hardier? Karn supposed that was the closest descriptor. They both had horns on their heads, but the males were like those of a ram, large, curled, and coming to a fine point. The females' ones were smaller, didn't curl around her head, and looked…softer. Not to mention the size difference, the male had a good foot on the female, easily.

Karn stared at the two figures, "…All right, what makes the Urgals so special?"

Anansi lifted a finger, "One; they are very spiritual, believing in a host of gods and spirits, both Urgal and animal. Two; conflict, rising above their limits, is an integral part of their culture".

Ero continued, less enthusiastically "Though they don't interact much with the other races, once they come of age, they are encouraged to go venture out into the world, and not come back until they have proven their worth".

"Let me guess," Karn drawled, "They have to kill something?"

"Anything!" Anansi replied.

Ero sighed, "I swear, you are obsessed with these things".

"How could I not be?" Anansi bellowed, "You have to admit, they are perfect to receive our gift".

Karn had to admit, these Urgals were appealing. But something made him pause, "Hold on…how do the other races treat them. After all they look fairly…monstrous, and humans, at least, can be led by fear".

At this, Anansi scowled, "…No one really likes them," he quietly admitted.

Ero clicked her…tongue(?), "If an Urgal—a member of a race who's right of passage is killing the first viable threat they come across—were to suddenly gain superpowers, it's doubtful the other races would see it as a good thing".

Karn pursed his lips, "Still, we can't ignore fact that they are one of the more appealing options we've come across".

Considering the topic closed, Karn pulled up an image of the last sentient race, the Werecats. Their humanoid form was much more human-like than Karn originally thought, the only feline features being their eyes, fangs, and claws at the ends of their fingers. "…Do we mess with Were-creatures?"

Anansi shrugged, "I've never met a Were-creature with our gift".

Ero grimaced, "It happened once…it wasn't pretty".

Karn gulped, "Okay, so of the five races currently inhabiting this land, the Dwarves, Urgals, and of course, Humans, are the most likely sources to choose an Avatar from".

Anansi nodded, as did Ero, though more hesitantly.

Karn turned to the former, "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

Anansi, in turn, faced Ero, "Tell me, what do you know of a man named Eragon?"

Ero snorted, "'Young man'? More like 'boy'".

Anansi rolled his eyes, "Regardless, would he not make a good candidate?"

Karn narrowed his eyes (as did Ero) and he yanked on a few strands, humming as he learned about the boy. "…He is currently the 'center' of this world…and he is at a point in his life in which he could be considered worthy of our gift".

Ero's face set into a snarl, "Perhaps, but you forget about the fire-breathing lizard practically attached to his hip!"

Anansi frowned, "So we bring the dragon into the fold, we've brought in animal companions before," he spread his arms out, "Remember the horse?"

Karn held up a hand, "Now wait, I can see where Ero is coming from; after all, none of the animals gifted by proxy were sentient".

Anansi adopted a thoughtful expression, rubbing his chin, "…I suppose we don't know how the beast would react…I've also been neglecting the fact that, in this universe, dragons have a great deal magical prowess which manifests itself in bizarre ways".

Ero grunted, "So we won't gift the boy".

Anansi sighed, nodding. Then his face split into a wide grin, "But what if one of our chosen were to bond with a dragon?"

Ero opened her mouth to retort, only to pause, "…It could work, if these dragons weren't all but extinct".

Karn snorted, "Nothing as powerful as dragons ever truly go extinct".

Anansi grunted, "I have heard whispers on the wind of surviving eggs; I'll be sure to devote more of my time looking into it".

Karn nodded in consideration, "Well, I think we've made some real progress; certainly narrowed things down for you, Ero. Ero?" Karn repeated when the Other did not respond.

Anansi regarded his peer with a curious expression, "What, have we missed something?"

Ero exhaled, "Yes, actually, there is something we've been neglecting".

Karn quirked a brow, "Really? What is it?"

"The current, widespread beliefs of our Avatars".

Anansi chortled at that, "Wait, are you referring to their Creed, or their general pacifism?"

"Both".

Anansi scoffed, "Didn't you give Parker grief because you felt he was too 'nice' or whatever you called it".

Ero's face twisted into a snarl, "No more grief than I gave you all those years ago".

Karn was surprised when Anansi didn't escalate the conflict, instead turning his head to the night sky, a thoughtful expression on his face, "Yes…I was an arrogant bastard wasn't I? And I suppose times do change; and Webs with similar ideologies have better cohesion".

Karn scoffed, "I'm sorry, are you two listening to yourselves? I've nothing but for respect for the Spider-Men and Women traversing the multiverse, but those ideals…that degree of pacifism…they're too advanced for this era".

Ero glowered at the ground, but Anansi, he smiled.

Karn leaned forward, "What? What's going on in that head of yours, Anansi?"

The man replied, "Ero, despite her obvious bias," the Other hissed, "Has a point; we have standards—now, at least. And I doubt any of us here have the time or patience to search for someone with an advanced enough ideology, but it can be taught".

Karn stared on at Anansi's enigmatic grin, noting an indescribable look on Ero's face.

** A/N: So…should be obvious which way this story is going to go (it's almost like I have a preference or something~). Oh, and I just want to preface this; I don't hate the Inheritance Cycle; sure, the first two parts are fairly cliché and predictable (and Eragon should have stayed semi-crippled), and the ending is a total asspull (a fucking  _empathy bomb_ , really?), but the  _world_  Paolini set up at least has the potential to interesting—too bad he spent most of it jerking off his Elves, and the biggest in-depth look at Dwarves we got was mostly politics, and he never really explained why sorcerers only commune with spirits that will take over their bodies for evil purposes, as opposed to spirits that want to help mortals, or spirits that go 'ew, flesh, no thanks'…I really don't hate it…Be sure to leave a review. Later. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Surprising Finds

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

“Care to remind me why we are here?”

 

“You mean aside from the fact that this is the only place on the continent that you’ve yet your sink your claws in,” Ero narrowed her eyes at Anansi, “This is the last place where we can hope to find dragon eggs”.

 

Ero reluctantly nodded, “I’d really hoped those elves had a stockpile somewhere; all they had was a crippled, elderly dragon, But,” she raised a finger, “The king, Galbatorix, has at least one egg”.

 

Anansi frowned, “Yes, but, I think we both agree it would be best to get out hand on an egg that hasn’t been tainted by a century of crazy”.

 

“…We haven’t checked all the mountain ranges”.

 

Anansi looked over his shoulder, “If there were any dragon eggs in those mountains, they would either,” he raised a finger, “be common knowledge,” another finger, “or already eaten by the local fauna. This island—the defunct base of the extinct Dragon Riders—is our last chance to find ourselves our own dragon”. His lips curled into a wry smile, “Besides, where is your sense of adventure?”

 

“About one hundred miles East, away from this irradiated cesspool of an island; or maybe it’s with Karn, smoothing out the details of _your_ plan”.

 

Anansi scoffed, “Didn’t hear you objecting”. He waved his hand, “Look, the sooner you and your brood nestle into this place’s nooks and crannies, the sooner you can leave”.

 

Ero rolled her eye sockets, dissolving into individual spiders, which quickly scattered, seeking to root out the secrets of the island.

 

Anansi laughed, leaping high onto a tree. Once he did so, he spun around, smiling at the sight of ruined buildings atop a mountain, “Ah…you must be ‘Doru Araeba’,” he giggled excitedly, “I wonder what tales you will share”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Anansi let out a dejected sigh, kicking a boulder out of his way, “Absolutely nothing,” he hung his head low, “Such a shame”.

 

The ruins were, perhaps unsurprisingly, ransacked; library stripped clean, rooms turned upside down, even the statues and paintings were destroyed beyond recognition.

 

_Hiss! Hiss!_

 

Anansi let out another sigh, leaping onto the ceiling to avoid a five-foot tall snail charging towards him.

 

The gigantic gastropod stumbled, for lack of a better word, when its target disappeared, whirling its eyestalks to try and find its quarry. When it found Anansi, crawling along the top of the cavern, it hissed erratically, giving chase once more.

 

Anansi off-handedly flicked his wrist, webbing the beast in place; leaving it and its enraged hissing behind him.

 

He huffed, “At least the wildlife is entertaining”.

 

He spent another few hours dejectedly exploring the rest of the city. Soon enough, he found himself at the base of the mountain which the city was built on, sitting back against a wall, “…I should’ve stayed in Surda, at least the sorcerers are fun to look at”. He opened his palm, “ _Brisingr,_ ” he whispered, and a deep red flame burst into life from his palm. He stared at it, waving his palm, and the flame, in front of him, “What fascinating magic. Good thing it’s tied to one’s physical endurance and language skills, otherwise it’d be too good”.

 

He closed his hand into a fist, killing the flame. He stood up, “I suppose I’d better call Ero, let her know what little I found. Probably going to lord it over me”.

 

He took a deep breath; expanding his senses to call for Ero. He gave her a quick message, not wanting to feel her smugness over a psychic connection, and retracted his senses. At least, he would have, were it not for a curious development. Less than a mile away, there was a large collection of magical energy. He focused on it, only to jolt back as the magic flared up.

 

He blinked, rubbing his head. “What the-what was I-!” His face twisted into a snarl, “Oh-ho, playing mind games, are we?” He cracked his knuckles, stalking towards the source of the magic wave which knocked him back, “Well, you’ve obviously never gone up against the emissary of a god”.

 

He shifted his gaze to his left as Ero formed next to him. He could feel a snarky comment form on the tip of her ‘lips’, only for her to pause upon seeing his serious expression. “What happened?”

 

Anansi sighed, leaping over a broken bridge, “Something—I don’t know what—tried to erase my memories”.

 

Ero frowned, taking a moment to search for this ‘something’. When she found it, she flinched, “Okay, yeah, that is annoying. I take it you want to teach this thing a lesson?”

 

A feral grin grew on Anansi’s face, “Yes,” he rounded a corner, stopping, “Found you!” he declared.

 

Ero quickly caught up, frowning at what she saw, “…I was expecting more”.

 

Anansi nodded, “Yes. Carvings, talismans, hell, even cave paintings, not a blank wall”.

 

Anansi and Ero walked up to wall, the former rapping his knuckles against it. “Well, it’s not an illusion—completely at any rate”.

 

Ero crawled up the wall, inspecting it, “…It’s seamless, can’t find anything that suggests it’s man-made”.

 

Anansi cracked his neck, “Doesn’t matter. I seem to recall,” he drew his fist back, “static spells in this world can break under significant straining”.

 

Ero hopped down, a blank look on her face, “Oh, you cannot be seri—”

 

_BOOM!_

 

The impact of Anansi’ punch echoed through the air, but he grit his teeth at the fact that his fist was hovering an inch above the wall.

 

“Damn, it’s more solid than I—Gah!” Anansi clutched his head as his mind as he, and Ero if her similarly pained cries were any indication, was mentally assaulted by what felt like a hundred different minds.

 

“RAH!” the Spider yelled out, unleashing a psychic attack of his own. This managed to stun his attackers; and then Ero picked up the slack.

 

Another disadvantage to this Universe’s magic, Anansi mused, was that, in order to critically injure an opponent, one (or many ones, as the case may be) needed to create a link between the attacking and defending mind; which, obviously, left the attacker open to counterattack.

 

Now, Anansi had no doubt the beings that inhabited this world developed ways to counteract this flaw, but he did doubt any of them had ever faced a being like Ero.

 

The Other let out a low, menacing hiss, eyes glowing a dangerous, smoldering yellow. She looked deep within herself, the very core of her being; her true cunning, vengeful, primal self. And when she found it, when she sunk her claws into that ancient, animal core, she unleashed it upon her prey.

 

Anansi gave a pained smile as hundreds of voices screamed—no, roared—in pain. That smile grew smug as the attackers—hurt, confused, scared—slowly slunk away.

 

Anansi stood up straight, loosening his collar, “Well,” he looked over his shoulder, “That was an experience”.

 

Ero frowned, “…How much do you want to bet something pertaining to dragon eggs are down there?”

 

Anansi chuckled, shooting out a pair of weblines at the wall, “That’s a sucker’s bet”. He hopped backwards, giving the webs a good few tugs when he reached maximum tension. Satisfied, Anansi jumped up, rocketing feet first towards the wall.

 

This time, the moment he contacted with the wall, the spell shattered, and the wall along with it.

 

Anansi quickly shot out a webline behind him, bouncing back before he fell further into the unveiled cavern.

 

Anansi stared into the darkness, a wide smile threatening to split his face apart.

 

**Line Break**

 

Oromis narrowed his gaze at the dusty pile of scrolls before him, muttering a quick spell to blow it all away and out of his home.

 

A steady, booming beat soon entered his hearing, and he smiled, stepping outside his home. The old elf sighed contentedly as his oldest friend, his partner, Glaedr—who’s golden eyes shone with a glimmer Oromis had not seen in centuries—landed in front of him, his mighty wings buffeting the grass as he steadied himself.

 

Oromis cocked a brow when he noticed his companion stumble more than usual; he must have been working tirelessly since he left their home at dawn.

 

The elf hummed, “Are your training grounds prepared?”

 

A deep rumble spilled out from the aged dragon’s throat, “ _Yes…I must admit, the opportunity to teach the next generation once more,_ ” the dragon’s chest swelled, “ _…this is a long time coming_ ”.

 

Oromis nodded, “Indeed,” he frowned, “It is a shame that the boy—GAH!” Oromis cried out as spasms erupted along his body.

 

Glaedr growled, only for his eyes to widen in alarm when the seizure lasted longer than usual.

 

The dragon hurriedly bent down low, shoving aside his worry in favor of blowing out a warm gust of air, like he did when Oromis first contracted this curse.

 

Glaedr watched on for another tense minute—bemoaning the fact that he could not do more to help—before relaxing as Oromis’s spasms slowed to a halt.

 

The dragon extended his lone forearm forward, granting his partner a steady wall to hold himself against.

 

Oromis wheezed, “That…was the worst it has been in a long time”.

 

Glaedr growled, “ _You have been overexerting yourself”_.

 

Oromis shook his head, “Perhaps,” he took a deep breath, “I’m afraid we will have to put our preparations on hold,” he pushed himself off Glaedr’s leg, “I need to recheck my wards”.

 

“ _Of course,”_ Glaedr replied, lying down, “ _You’ll be of no use to us dead”_.

 

Oromis smiled fondly at Glaedr, sitting down next to him, meditating.

 

**Line Break**

 

Galbatorix clicked his tongue, setting aside a weathered scroll, “ _No, that won’t work; his bones will be too dense to move fluidly_ ”.

 

He looked to his left, frowning at the fact that he had gone through his current pile of scrolls and books. With a quick thought, he summoned a servant to his chambers.

 

An elderly woman quickly scurried in, “Yes, your majesty”.

 

Galbatorix opened his mouth, only to snap it shut when a mental presence assaulted him.

 

He narrowed his gaze, strengthening his defense and pinpointing the soon-to-be dead man in less than five seconds; it turned out to be one of the Eldunarí adorning the top of his bookshelves. With a scowl, he called upon the other Eldunarí’s power, swiftly and brutally crushing the lone heart of heart’s attempted rebellion.

 

Once the threat, minimal as it was, had been dealt with, Galbatorix took a closer look at the attacking Eldunarí. He furrowed his brow, “ _Saphira…Brom’s dragon_ ,” he stroked his beard, “… _She has been acting up since Brom’s death_. _It’s honestly impressive that she managed to break through those new wards_ ,” he sighed, “ _A shame I could not weaponized a dragon’s innate magic prowess_ ,” a grin ghosted across his face, “ _Oh well, a few weeks in the Cellar should calm her down_ ”.

 

He turned to face his servant, only to frown, shifting his gaze down to her corpse, blood spilling out from her eyes and nose.

 

He sighed, waving his hand and muttering a quick spell, cleaning up the blood, and then summoning another servant to dispose of her, and accomplish his original orders.

 

**Line Break**

 

Ero slinked above Anansi, carefully following the winding path further and further into the mountain.

 

Ero felt a pang of irritation as the man beneath her started to whistle. That pang grew as his whistling grew louder, until it became full-on aggravation when he hummed some wordless tune.

 

“Would you stop?!” she snarled.

 

Anansi scoffed, “Oh, I’m sorry for wanting to alleviate the tedium between silence and fending off psychic attacks”.

 

Ero let out a breath, “Well, I haven’t felt anything since we hit a quarter mile”.

 

“I know”.

 

“We’re currently three-quarter miles deep”.

 

 “I know”.

 

Ero’s ‘eye’s’ twitched in irritation—which she didn’t think was possible (she didn’t have actual eyes after all), but then again, she didn’t think it was possible to traverse multiverses until a few months ago either—and she hopped forward, ‘standing’ so that she looked at Anansi, face-to-face. “It’s annoying”.

 

The first Spider smiled, “I think the more likely answer is that you have terrible taste in music,” and stepped past her.

 

Ero scowled, and then grimaced as a large force of psychic energy assaulted her mind.

 

“Ah,” Anansi groaned, “There they are!”

 

Ero growled, loosing her own attack. She grunted as she was met with a much firmer resistance than the previous bouts; evidently these people hadn’t spent the last ten minutes sitting on their asses. It was a different kind of attack too, less organized strikes and more…instinctual reactions. Not to mention, the minds behind this attack felt older; still, compared to her, they might as well have been infants.

 

With a low snarl, Ero psychically shoved the attackers aside, panting from the strain. To her side, Anansi rubbed his temples, “That was the worst one by far…We must be close to whatever these people are hiding”.

 

Ero rolled her eyes; as if that wasn’t obvious.

 

Thankfully, Anansi saw fit to remain silent from that point on. Not that that mattered much, since after two minutes of travel, they came upon an ancient stone archway.

 

Ero felt a tingle along the back of her ‘skull’. She focused on that tingle, rather, the thing her tingle was warning her of “…Do you see what I’m seeing?”

 

“Are you referring to the rocks, or the rather stocky, near naked man with the head of a dragon?”

 

Ero smirked as the figure flinched; the joys of night vision.

 

She then cried out as another psychic wave assaulted her.

 

Anansi held back a snort as Ero cried out from behind him, “ _I must not be worth the effort anymore”_ he mused. But that was fine, it left the humanoid being in the next room all to himself.

 

Anansi tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck. He clenched his fist, staring down the dragon-man hybrid, which was now wielding a sword and shield, tense and ready for an attack.

 

Anansi smirked, pouncing forward.

 

The dragon-man—which was likely a dragon-man android, given its shiny gray skin—scrambled out of Anansi’s way, stunned at the sheer distance the first Spider-Man cleared. Anansi, shoving his hands down to the ground, pivoted to face the metallic being, crouched low to the ground.

 

The hybrid brought its sword—an admittedly beautiful one-handed blade, which, shined like a rainbow in the cavern—and shield—a disproportionately dull slab of steel compared to the blade—level to its torso, growling lowly.

 

Anansi’s eyes gleamed deviously. Quick as a flash, he flicked his wrist outward, a thin cord of webbing shooting out towards the blade.

 

To the metal man’s credit, it dodged the webbing, confusion marring its features for only a moment, before setting its face into grim determination.

 

Rather, it would have, had Anansi not pulled himself forward, slamming his fist into its scaly head.

 

Anansi landed with a grunt, attaching a webline to the metal being’s flailing feet.

 

He grabbed the webline with both hands, slamming the metal hybrid down into the ground, it roared on impact, and continued roaring as Anansi swung it into a wall. He let go of the web, letting the metal man stumble forward. He bit back a grin as he webbed its arms and legs to the wall behind it.

 

The hybrid pulled against the webbing, to no avail. After another few tugs, it turned to one of its trapped limbs, mouth open, sucking in a deep breath.

 

With a chuckle, Anansi muzzled it with a well-placed webshot.

 

He then walked towards the hybrid, which glared down—now that he was not level to the ground, Anansi could see it was half-a-foot taller than himself—and growled at Anansi.

 

Anansi ignored the being’s rage, peering at it. “…Why a loincloth?” he murmured, more to himself than aloud, “I doubt you have anything worth covering”. He then moved his gaze upward peering at its torso, frowning at a small indent near its left ribs, assuming it had ribs at any rate.

 

He traced the indent, smacking the thing’s snout when it growled, with a hint of fear, at him. After a moment, he found a latch, pulling on it, surprised at the ease with which the metal dragon-man’s torso opened. He scoffed, “This is such a glaring oversight,” pulling it open like he would a cupboard.

 

He quirked a brow at what could only be the metal being’s battery, a glowing purple stone a little smaller than his own head. He brought his hand up, running a finger along one of the hundreds of hair-like strands going from the stone to the body. He only stopped when he felt the medieval android shudder. Anansi grunted as he pulled his hand away, standing up straight, “Don’t worry, you get to keep your life,” he tapped the stone, “for now, at least”.

 

He turned around, scanning the room he was in. The first thing he noticed was a large circular cavern in the middle of the room—which must have led to some sort of magma pocket, given light and heat emanating from it. Across the pit, there were hundreds of stones of a myriad of colors, of which there were two different types; ovular stones stuck in alcoves, and round stones similar the stone in the android—though not as bright—on a stone outcrop just below the ovular stones.

 

The ovular ‘stones’ were clearly dragon eggs, what else would they be? But the round ones…they were obviously a power source, as the dragon-man proved; but there must have been something more.

 

Before he could follow those lines of thought, he heard footsteps.

 

He turned, smirking as Ero entered the cavern and glared at him. “Thank you for the help,” she spat out.

 

Anansi waved a hand as he moved towards her, “Eh, you had it under control. More importantly,” he cut off whatever harsh words were about to spill from her ‘lips’, “Look at those alcoves”.

 

Ero grunted, doing so. Her posture lost its aggression when she saw the eggs, “…I’ll be damned”.

 

Anansi nodded, “Well, let’s grab a handful and be done with it”.

 

“ _ENOUGH!”_ a voice psychically roared.

 

Anansi and Ero whirled around, spider-sense pinpointing the source of their sole attacker.

 

They stared curiously at one stone, stark white and a little larger than the one in the dragon-man—but not the largest—glowing fiercely.

 

**A/N: You know, another thing that just irks me about the Inheritance Cycle is the idea that Galbatorix, the man who had the consciousness’s of his dragon teachers on hand for a century, _Galbatorix_ , the man who had unimpeded access to every piece of literature the Dragon Rider’s had before their fall, _GALBATORIX_ , the man who spent a goddamn century researching the Ancient Language and its origins, somehow did not know that non-verbal casting was a thing. I mean [clutches own head] what the actual hell?! Every other flaw of his—arrogance, sadism, general madness, a voracious sexual appetite—is fine, cliché (the sex thing is honestly kind of funny for a Palpatine expy), but fine. However, not knowing a flaw in a magic language he’d been studying for most of his life is, it’s just…dear lord…Regardless, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Friendly Conversations

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

_“ Ancient Language”_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

 

Anansi let out a breath, “My word…you people were so devoted to these eggs, you stuffed your souls into gemstones”.

 

“They aren’t people”.

 

Anansi shifted his gaze to Ero, who continued, “Rather, they don’t feel human. They’re older, wilder…” she narrowed her eyes, “These are dragon souls”.

 

The dragon growled lowly, “ _Yes…we are”._

 

Anansi crossed his arms, “Fascinating,” he turned back to Ero, “I can handle this, grab some eggs”.

 

“ _NO!”_ the dragon roared once more, and it led another assault on the pair.

 

Ero huffed, unleashing her own psychic strike. She frowned as she battered them aside, “You should conserve your strength, that was just pathetic,” with that, she walked over to the alcove of eggs.

 

Anansi glanced at the shimmering stone, “…I realize that we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, but we don’t mean you any harm. We just want a dragon”.

 

His only reply was a low, threatening growl.

 

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Anansi; a distinct aspect of this universe’s magical language.

 

Turning to fully face the white orb, Anansi cleared his throat, “ _My friend and I mean no harm to the dragons inside those eggs_ ”.

 

He could feel the dragon’s surprise at his use of the language—the Ancient Language, Anansi recalled—before rage and frustration reared their heads back in.

 

Anansi continued, “ _Nor are we in league with the emperor, Galbatorix ”._

 

A weight seemed to lift from the air, and the dragon lost a touch of its hostility. After a pregnant pause, it spoke, “ _What…what are you?_ ”

 

Anansi smirked at the confusion, and touch of fear, in the beast’s tone. Anansi gestured to himself, a wide grin on his face, “ _Well, I would not presume to speak for my companion, but I am_ —” he frowned, “ _I am_ —” he groaned, “That answers that,” he mumbled.

 

“ _Did…did you just attempt to lie, in the Ancient Language?_ ” the dragon asked incredulously.

 

Anansi waved a hand, “ _Yes. I’ve tried it in private; looked at a leaf and tried to say, ‘This leaf is pink,’ to no avail. I’d hoped that lying to another living being—who understood what I was saying—might yield more interesting results; a brain aneurism or something equally bloody_ ”.

 

“ _… Why?”_

 

Anansi laughed at the dragon’s incredulous tone, “ _I was curious_ ”.

 

The stone stopped shimmering, “ _… You’d risk death over simple curiosity?”_

 

Anansi shrugged, “ _Death has little meaning when you are immortal ”_.

 

Anansi sniggered after that, he could feel the dragon, and the others beside it, stop thinking as his words sunk in. He then frowned, turning to face Ero, “What’s keeping you?”

 

Ero didn’t respond immediately, prompting Anansi to repeat his question. Ero then replied, “Something is…off about some of these eggs”.

 

Anansi snorted, walking closer, “I’ll say; some of these are taller than me”.

 

Ero rolled her eyes, “Use your head”.

 

Anansi hummed, reaching out with his mind. He started with the egg taller than himself, frowning when it felt like any old incubating animal that was close to hatching; wild, young, a hint of ‘fear’ towards the ‘outside world’. He moved on to a smaller egg, as big as an infant human, and again, felt the same emotions, for lack of a better term. And so on, and so on, until finally stopping after the seventh egg.

 

At his questioning gaze, Ero pointed to a yellow egg about as large as her head, “Try this one”.

 

Anansi did so, and immediately reared his head back in surprise when he felt an infantile mind reach into his own. He refocused, letting it enter his mind. Anansi was so awe-struck, he didn’t even care that the fledgling mind scampered away after a cursory look. “My word…it is, well, not really thinking, but certainly more conscious than the others”.

 

Ero nodded, “A few of them are; they looked me over as well, but then shrunk away after a quick scan”.

 

Anansi pursed his lips, then snapped his fingers. He turned back to the white stone, “This is how you determine Dragon Riders, is it not?”

 

When there was no response, he frowned, leaping in front of the stone, rapping it with his knuckles, “Hello? Anyone there?”

 

“ _Huh?_ ” the dragon growled, “ _Stop that!_ ”

 

Anansi grinned, though he did stop, “ _Answer the question_ ”.

 

The stone growled, saying nothing.

 

Anansi sighed, “ _Your silence speaks volumes_ ”.

 

The man gestured to the eggs, “As you were, Ero”.

 

The Other nodded, only to halt when a loud “ _Stop_!” reverberated through their skulls.

 

Ero leveled a stare at the white stone, “…You aren’t in much of a position to do anything”. With a smirk, she quickly ‘jabbed’ at its mental defenses, smirking when the dragon ‘flinched’.

 

The dragon turned its attention to Anansi, “… _We realize that we cannot stop you; fighting you would be tantamount to suicide_ ”.

 

“ _A wise conclusion_ ,” Anansi quipped.

 

The glow surrounding the orb shimmered in anger once more, before calming into a gentle glow, “ _All we…ask_ ,” it slowly ground out, “ _is that, if one of the them deem you worthy, you take only one egg, and that whatever you do with it, you ensure its health and safety_ ”.

 

Anansi shifted his gaze to Ero, who slowly nodded. Anansi turned back to the stone, bowing, solemnly vowing, “ _You have our word, nothing untoward shall happen to the egg and the dragon inside it_ ”.

 

The dragon heaved a great sigh, “ _In light of the circumstances, it will do_ ”.

 

Anansi smiled at the stone, then turned to nod at Ero to continue.

 

The Other, glad to be done with that, turned her attention back to the eggs. She went back to the yellow one, letting it scan her mind. The infant mind took a quick peek, only to immediately shrink away once making contact.

 

Ero let out a breath, moving on to the next one; a cobalt blue egg about two feet tall.

 

This one too, stole away after a single glance at Ero’s mind.

 

Counting the one’s she’d looked at before, that was the fifth egg that rejected her.

 

She stopped; obviously, something was wrong with her approach, but what?

 

She then groaned, the solution flashing in her mind like lightning. These dragons choose a partner by scanning a human’s or elf’s mind in its entirety, and she was an immortal arachnid, barely mimicking a human body and mind, with eons of experience. She blanched, those five dragons were most likely traumatized now.

 

She shrugged. “Omelets and eggs,” she muttered under her breath.

 

She then closed her eyes, focusing on the Web of Life and Destiny. “ _Karn,_ ” she called across Time and Space, “ _I need some assistance_?”

 

She waited in silence for a few moments, before Karn replied, “ _Yes, Yes! Sorry for the wait just…busy_ ”.

 

Ero cocked a brow at his tired tone, “ _Do you need to hurry back?_ ”

 

“ _Wha-Oh, no, no_ ”. He cleared his throat (rather, he performed the nearest mental equivalent), “ _Just finished building the…cocoon_ ”.

 

Ero snorted, “ _Don’t you mean the ‘Multiversal Transporting Safety Net’_?”

 

“ _I refuse to call it that_ ,” Karn bluntly responded.

 

“I get the feeling you’re making fun of me,” Anansi called out.

 

“Go play with your rocks,” Ero countered, “ _Anyway,_ ” she continued to Karn, “ _I need a favor_ ”.

 

“ _What is it?_ ”

 

“ _I need you transmit Parker’s mental signature to the eggs_ ”.

 

“ _Which one?”_

 

Ero leveled her best deadpan stare through their psychic connection.

 

She could feel Karn’s face heat up, “ _Ah,_ ” he awkwardly cleared his throat, “ _That one, of course! One moment”_.

 

Ero crossed her arms, waiting. Suddenly, she flinched; unprepared for the memories and sensations transmitted through the connection. Thankfully, as suddenly as they appeared, they vanished.

 

“ _Terribly sorry about all that. Felt a pair of wandering eyes on me, had to rush”_.

 

Ero set her jaw, “ _Who wa—”_

 

“ _No one important,_ ” Karn hastily assured, “ _It wasn’t on the level of Eternity, or even the Watchers. I think it was one of the other animal deities. Nothing to worry too much about”_.

 

“ _Are you sure?”_

 

Karn snorted, “ _I like to think I’ve learned a thing or two about avoiding potential danger”_. He let out a breath, “ _Now then, let me work my magic_ ”.

 

Ero opted to silently monitor the eggs as Karn showed them the bare bones of Parker’s being. She hummed when she sensed several eggs express interest in what they were shown.

 

After letting Karn run his course, Ero stated, _“If any of you are interested in meeting this man, this is your only chance_ ”.

 

Most of the eggs shut her out after that—evidently not wanting to leave the safety of the cave—leaving five eggs to choose from.

 

Ero walked forward, looking between the five eggs—colored sky blue, light purple, inky black, stark white, and dull orange—considering each one. She bit back a curse; it would be so much easier to just take all five eggs, but no, Anansi had to make a vow in a magical language.

 

She huffed in irritation; she’d let him have it later. For now…She crawled up the wall, stopping in front of the light purple egg, which was about the size of a human skull. She stared at it, smirking as she felt the egg’s limited awareness size her up. She reached out, nodding when the egg sent her a quick mental flash of acceptance before falling into a deep sleep. When she touched it, the spiders that made up her current form fanned out to cover the egg, slowly carrying it into her chest.

 

When she felt that the egg was secure in her torso, she back flipped off the wall. As she landed, she said to Karn, “ _Thanks for the help. And stick around, we’re going to need a way out”._

 

Karn replied that he would be ready.

 

Ero saw that Anansi was immersed in his mental conversation—one-sided it may be—and then noticed a sizeable pebble near her feet. With barely a thought, she kicked the pebble at the man.

 

Anansi lazily tilted his head to the side, catching the pebble in his palm. He looked over his shoulder, “All done?”

 

Ero nodded, pointing to her torso, which shifted to reveal the egg.

 

Anansi’s face broke into a wide smirk, “Excellent,” he then turned to a wall, shooting out webbing from his wrists to craft a large spider web, from which crimson mist seeped from the center, pooling at the floor.

 

As Ero jumped through the portal, Anansi bowed to the dragon souls-within-stones, “It was nice to meet you all,” he said with a smirk, “And I hope to meet you all again in the future”.

 

The dragon’s wearily observed Anansi as he too leapt into the portal; a pregnant silence forming as the portal collapsed into dust.

 

Then a cacophony of light and (mental) sound erupted throughout the cavern.

 

“ _What just happened?!_ ”

 

“ _How could you allow that to happen, Umaroth?!_ ”

 

“ _He must have been lying!”_

__

_ “Are there more of them?!” _

_ “Where were these things when Galbatorix slaughtered our Riders?!” _

 

“ _SILENCE!_ ” a voice thundered above the rest.

 

The noises quieted to nothing, the stones dimming one-by-one until the largest one, the one that uttered the command, was the only one left alight.

 

Taking a moment to ensure none would interrupt, the dragon shifted its attention to the white stone, “ _Umaroth_ ,” it intoned.

 

After a long moment, Umaroth spoke. “ _Much has happened in such a short time. For now, we must trust in the vow we’ve made, and focus our efforts on Eragon and Saphira_ ”.

 

“ _What about our broken wards_?” A voice grumbled.

 

“ _Thank you for volunteering to fix them, Lenora_ ”.

 

A few of the dragons chuckled uneasily at that, and the group slowly worked to power the fail-safes of the shattered wards, purposefully ignoring the questions and fears they were all clambering about just moments before.

 

**A/N: Looking back, I probably could have just slapped this one onto the last chapter. Oh well; be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Unwilling Participants

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

 

Karn gazed through the eyes of a jumping spider, hidden high in the trees, upon a young raven-haired toddler with eerie violet eyes, and a glowing silver star on her brow (which only served to accentuate eerie stare), sitting on a tree stump, alternating between glaring at her caretaker—an elderly woman in the middle of sewing a small gown, seemingly ignorant her ward’s scorn—and in the direction of the Varden ’s camp, a few miles out of her range.

 

Suddenly, the girl leapt from her position, ramming into the old woman. The woman stumbled, more from shock than the actual blow. Once the reality of the situation fell upon her, the woman’s face paled, and she turned to her ward, bending down and stammering an apology.

 

The young girl merely scoffed, waved the woman aside, and returned to the stump.

 

Karn’s heart went out for the child, Elva. To be cursed to not only know the pain that would befall others, but to be compelled to keep it from happening was surely the worst fate he could ever imagine for someone, especially for one so young. To say nothing of the circumstance of her origins; Karn allowed himself a grim chuckle, to be cursed due to a grammatical error—anyone would grow bitter and jaded in such a short time.

 

But Karn could not dwell on the girl, there was more work to be done.

 

Karn slipped out of the arachnid’s conciousness, and slipped into another’s, this one living among massive the trees of Ellesméra, the elven capital. Fortunately, this spider made its home just above the Queen’s dwellings, so Karn did not have to search long for his other candidate for Keeper of the Web.

 

Blagden, the albino raven and unofficial pet of the elven royal family, was certainly an oddity. Blessed with clairvoyance, but simultaneously cursed with madness, it chose to spend its time flying around the capital, speaking in rhyme and annoying the populace, that it, when it wasn’t dolling out prophecies.

 

Ah, speak of the devil.

 

Karn’s spider skittered down a branch, hanging overhead as Blagden settled down in front of an elven guard.

 

The bird opened its beak:

“ _A poor soul, beset by pricks._

_ Left alone, with a stick! _

__

_ Try as you might, _

_ Through all of the night, _

_You’ll never be rid of your plight!_ ”

 

With a hearty squawk, Blagden flew away from the bewildered guard.

 

Karn let out a sigh, that was less prophecy and more inference; it wasn’t hard to notice the ticks hopping around the elf, for him, at least.

 

Karn released his hold on the arachnid, returning to his abode on Earth-13, colloquially known as ‘Loom World’. He settled onto his web, contemplating his choices.

 

“ _The bird is already a true clairvoyant, so he’ll have less to cope with in terms of abilities. But the girl has actual intelligence, not some magically induced facsimile_ ”. He rubbed his temples, _“The girl is also a misanthrope, despite her young age; and such a negative mentality would be detrimental to a burgeoning web. But the bird’s intelligence is limited, and such an explosive increase in awareness might lead it to go mad…well, madder_ ”.

 

Karn continued to dwell on the problem, debating the pros and cons of each candidate. Eventually, he patience reached its limit, and he let out a short growl, “This is going nowhere!” he groused.

 

He plucked a few strands on his web, in the (admittedly vain) hope that he could just skip the whole decision process and divine his choice.

 

When the mist cleared, he jolted at the sight of the Great Weaver; and even without a clear face, Karn could tell it was staring exasperatedly at him.

 

“ **Did you really think that would work**?” the Great Weaver queried.

 

Karn bashfully averted his gaze, “…No”.

 

The Great Weaver jabbed spidery limb through the connection, stopping just in front of Karn’s face, forcing the ex-Inheritor to flinch back, “ **Don’t waste our time again** ”.

 

With that final statement, the impromptu connection terminated, and Karn was left alone once more.

 

After taking a moment to calm his heart, Karn let out a sigh. He swept his gaze to his left, landing on a desk. He skittered towards it, extending a limb to open a drawer, pulling out a coin.

 

He spun the coin between his fingers, scoffing at the profile of Norman Osborn on one side, the word ‘V.E.N.O.M.’, along with a toothy smile, engraved on the other.

 

Karn balanced the coin on the back of his thumb, “Heads for the bird, tails for the girl”.

 

He flipped the coin.

 

**Line Break**

 

Anansi hummed a wordless tune as he lay against his backpack, staring up at the clear night sky. Today was the day; after weeks of reconnaissance—and enjoying the local hospitality—Anansi and his colleagues were about to leave this new and exciting universe.

 

A smile wormed its way onto his face, as sad as he was to leave without even ferreting out all the world’s secrets, there was a whole plethora of stories on the horizon.

 

Suddenly, he felt a buzz in the back of his skull. He tilted his head up, grunting at the feminine figure swinging into view. Anansi smirked as she landed in front of him, “So, ho—the hell?”

 

Anansi pushed off the tree, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things; only to find out, yes, he wasn’t seeing things. Instead of her usual, semi-monstrous form, Ero had transformed into a blonde, hazel-eyes, white-skinned (modestly busty, he could admit) human woman, wearing leather armor.

 

Ero brushed a lock of hair off her face, narrowing her eyes at Anansi. “What?” she spat.

 

Anansi stared blankly at the Other, before scoffing, placing his hands on his hips “I knew you were desperate, but by Eternity, this is just sad”.

 

Ero growled lowly, her eyes shining a dangerous yellow, jaw set, “If you must know,” she hissed, “The last few times Parker and I have met, in my other forms, were less than pleasant,” she gestured to herself, eyes losing their glow, “I thought this would better ease his worries”.

 

Anansi cocked a brow, “And the fact that you look like his current lover is merely coincidence?”

 

The glowing returned in earnest.

 

Before Ero could blow up, however, Anansi continued with, “Well, while you’re trying to get in his pants, at least make sure he fully embraces his gift as well”.

 

Ero’s eyes lost their glare, her face twisting into a small frown, “Beg pardon?”

 

Anansi crossed his arms, “Look, its either him or his brother, and we both know you have a preference towards the former; I think you’re just being picky, but whatever, so long as the Other’s powers are manifested in an Avatar. Not to mention,” he glared up at the sky, “We should be far enough away from that red bastard that he won’t be able to interfere”.

 

Ero clenched her fist at the mention of Mephisto, “Rest assured,” she took a calming breath, “I know my priorities”.

 

Anansi nodded. Then, out of a desire to leave the current topic behind, he asked, “How’s the egg?”

 

Ero frowned, reaching down to her waist. After taking a moment to undo her loops and buckles, she lifted her armor, revealing her stomach. Her skin bubbled, and the illusion of flesh fell away, revealing a mass of spider, which parted to reveal the purple egg nestled in her body. She grabbed it, holding it out for Anansi to inspect. “I think it’s fine. You’ve got the gear?”

 

Anansi nodded, swinging his sack around, opening it and leaning down. “Yup, a few changes of clothes, some flint, and enough food to last him a couple days”. He stood up, pointing to the egg, “Don’t think I grabbed enough for that one, though”.

 

Ero shrugged, holding the egg for Anansi to grab, “It’s a dragon, a hunter; it’ll figure things out”.

 

Anansi frowned, but ceded her point, placing the egg in his pack.

 

Just then, Karn’s voice spoke in their minds, “ _W-We’re ready_ ”.

 

Anansi nodded, walking forward towards a pair of trees. He flicked his wrists out, moving them in intricate patterns, making a large spider web. Red mist spilled from its center, and Karn’s spidery form slowly crawled through, dragging a large, lumpy, rectangular cocoon with him.

 

Anansi cocked a brow, “...Is that his bed?”

 

“…Yes”.

 

A snort, “What, he too attached to the blankets?”

 

“…Something like that”.

 

Ero and Anansi scowled at Karn’s evasive answers. The latter took a closer look at the cocooned bed, eyeing the lumps. “ _Wait, lumps_?”

 

He peered closer, then his face broke out into a wide grin, “Oh, oh this is great!”

 

Ero blinked at Anansi’s declaration, but when she noticed Karn flinched, settled for glaring at the hybrid, “Karn…what did you do?”

 

The ex-inheritor gulped, “I was strapped for time,” he quickly muttered, his spidery limbs swiftly undoing the cocoon, “Couldn’t grab him while he was out in the open—too many variables involved with that—so I had to wait until he was asleep, and…well,” he trailed off into silence.

 

As the cocoon finally unraveled, Ero’s eyes widened, bewildered.

 

Karn rubbed the back of his head, “…He just wouldn’t let go”.

 

The thing Peter wouldn’t let go was, in fact a person. A blonde, female person wearing a dark blue tank top, and similarly colored underwear, her back nestled up against Peter’s chest, chin resting on his arm.

 

Anansi covered his mouth with his hands, stifling his raucous laughter. He shuddered for a minute, sighing when he felt his fit pass by. Only to let out a loud peal of laughter when he caught sight of Ero’s baffled, irritated expression.

 

“Hmm,” the three spider-beings froze as the woman—Mocker-something, Anansi idly thought—screwed her eyes further shut, groaning lightly, “Peter,” she muttered, eyes still closed, “Turn off your damn phone”.

 

Peter grunted, blindly reaching to his right. He dropped his hand down, then frowned, “What the—?” he brought his hand in front of his face, blinking his eyes open. He shook his wet hand, “Why am I wet?”

 

Some water splashed onto Bobbi’s neck, eliciting a short yelp from the now wide-awake woman. “Peter! What the—!” she gasped when she caught sight of her surroundings, which was not her apartment, but rather some forest.

 

She bolted upright, sweeping her gaze aside, stopping to glare at Anansi and Ero.

 

The former pulled at his collar, “Heheh,” he gulped, “Now, I know what you’re thinking—!”

 

He was interrupted, however, as Bobbi launched herself from the bed, “Parker, Up and at ‘em!” she shouted as she aimed a punch at Anansi, which the first Spider ducker under, spinning behind the woman as she landed.

 

Peter shot up, his tiredness disappearing at his girlfriend’s command. He saw the two people in front, but when he felt a slight buzz in the back of his skull, he rolled backwards, springing up feet first to hit the third threat.

 

Karn gasped, bending down to avoid Peter’s attack, blocking the fist Peter threw as he zoomed past.

 

Peter landed on a tree trunk, glaring at his target, only to frown as he got a better look at him. “What the—Karn?”

 

The man-spider chuckled guilty, “Hello Peter”.

 

Before Peter could question the Master Weaver, he heard Bobbi’s yell. He lifted his head, grunting at the sight of the other two—the blonde looking sort of familiar—duck and weave around his girlfriend’s blows.

 

Pushing off the tree trunk, he corkscrewed in the air, landing next to Bobbi, in between the other two. “Bobbi,” he frowned when she moved towards the man, arms primed to attack. He grabbed her arm, “Bobbi, calm down!”.

 

Bobbi looked over her shoulder, frowning “What?!”

 

Peter shifted his gaze to the man and woman—the latter wearing a stoic mask, and the former grinning easily—before continuing, “I don’t think we’re in danger”.

 

Bobbi scoffed, “Oh, the people that kidnapped us don’t mean us any harm?”

 

“Believe it or not,” Karn said as he skittered into view, “We don’t”.

 

Bobbi turned to the new voice, flinching back when she fully registered what he was, “Holy cow!”

 

Peter nodded, pointing to the hybrid, “That’s Karn; he’s a friend”.

 

Karn waved, half-heartedly.

 

Peter turned around, frowning at the other two, “I’ve got no idea who these guys are, though”.

 

The man sucked in a breath, “Ooh,” he turned to the blonde woman, “That must sting!”

 

Peter quirked a brow—so he did know her—but before he could follow that line of thought, Bobbi cleared her throat, “Hey, before you get explaining and all that, can I get some pants?”

 

Peter glanced down at himself, in all his white t-shirt, blue polka-dot pajama pants glory, then at Bobbi’s bare legs; then slowly lifted his gaze up, lips twitching as she shivered in the cool night air, which in turn—

 

“Eyes up front”.

 

Peter flushed, awkwardly coughing into his hands as he tore his eyes away.

 

The man in front of him chuckled once more, “Hold on a moment, I think I have some spare pants lying around”.

 

He then, to Peter and Bobbi’s shock, flicked his wrist to the side, a thin cord of webbing shooting out. He tugged the webbing, pulling a backpack into his arms.

 

Peter’s jaw almost went slack, but then he remembered Karn was here, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that there were other spider people involved.

 

Bobbi, having no such history with the ex-Inheritor, leaned in closer to Peter, “So, uh, you know these people?”

 

Peter grunted, “I know Karn, and I might know the blonde lady. I have no idea who the guy is, though”.

 

“Heads up!”

 

Peter reflexively brought his hands up, catching a smooth, ovular, purple stone.

 

Peter lowered his hands, staring at the stone, “Um, what’s this?”

 

Bobbi peered at the stone, “…Looks like an egg”.

 

Peter nodded at Bobbi assessment, “Why am I holding an egg?”

 

But the man ignored Peter’s question, instead, shaking his head as he turned to the other woman, “I don’t have anything in her size. Do you mind?”

 

At that, Bobbi waved her hands, “Hey, it’s cool. I can just wear a be—what the hell!”

 

She and Peter jumped back as the woman melted into hundreds of spiders, reforming into a facsimile of a female body and kicking her armor to Bobbi. The natural blonde poked the armor with her feet, and when no spiders crawled out of it, shrugged, starting the slow process of putting on the unfamiliar armor.

 

Peter gasped, “I remember you!” he pointed at the ‘woman’ (but still held onto the egg), “You tried to kill me!”

 

The literal spider woman rolled her ‘eyes’, “Of course that’s the first thing that comes to mind”.

 

To which the man mumbled under his breath, “To be fair, he can’t remember much else”.

 

“What was your name,” Peter bit his lip, “Portia, no, Aranea, nah, E-Ero! That’s it!”

 

Ero’s ‘mouth’ twitched at the recognition, but she settled into a frown when her partner butt in, “Care to guess what my name is?”

 

Peter stared at the man, “…Chuck”.

 

The man huffed, “Well, can’t say that’s entirely unexpected”. He cleared his throat; he then grabbed a bit of his cloak in his right hand, extending it to his side, “My name,” he bowed dramatically, “Is Kwaku Anansi”. He lifted his head, baring pearl-white teeth in a wide smile, “Nice to finally meet you, Peter Parker”.

 

The name struck a chord in Peter’s memory, “Wait…I know that name,” he gave the bowing man a once over, “…When’d you lose the leopard print?”

 

Anansi chuckled, straightening, “So close, but I am not that man; rather, I am the original version of that man, and, technically, the original version of you”.

 

Peter’s eyes widened as Anansi’s statement sunk in, “Oh!” he looked the man up and down, “Okay…uh, nice to meet you?”

 

Anansi’s wide smile returned, “Quite”.

 

Peter cleared his throat, turning to Bobbi, “You all set?”

 

She nodded, adjusting her pants, “A bit snug, but it’ll do until you explain why you kidnapped us,” she growled.

 

Peter nodded, “Yeah, what’s up with that?” He sucked in a sharp breath, “Are we going extinct again?!”

 

While Bobbi’s face twisted into confusion, Karn skittered into view, waving his arms I front of him, “No, nothing like that”.

 

“Oh,” Peter sighed in relief, “Then I’d like to go home now”.

 

Ero crossed her arms, “Afraid not”.

 

Bobbi’s eyes narrowed, “Why?”

 

She pointed to Peter, “We’ve got plans for him”.

 

Peter frowned, “What plans?”

 

Anansi replied, “A couple experiments that’ll determine how we go about doing things in this multiverse”.

 

“Beg pardon?”

 

Anansi gestured to the sky, “It’s something I used to do when the Great Weaver was first spreading its feelers across the multiverse; I’d get dropped off at some random universe, pal around for a while, then get shoved along to the next one”.

 

Before Peter could say anything, Bobbi cut in, “Okay, this sounds real neat, but if I wanted to deal with extra-dimensional BS I’d have hooked up with…uh…” she tapped her cheek in thought.

 

“Strange?” Peter supplied.

 

Bobbi screwed her face, “Ew, no thanks, not all that fond of goatees,” she shook her head, “Anyway; not for nothing, Peter, but this seems like a personal problem, and—”

 

“I get it,” Peter gently cut her off, “And you might as well wait back at the apartment until I deal with…this”.

 

“I agree,” Ero spoke up. She turned to Karn, “Send her back,” she stated, willfully ignoring Anansi’s muffled snort.

 

Karn coughed into his hands, “I’m afraid that isn’t an option”.

 

“What?” the two women replied.

 

Karn wrung his hands, “Sending Miss Morse back would leave residual energy that could lead anyone, no matter their intentions, right back to us”.

 

“That would be a problem”. As Ero opened her ‘mouth’ Anansi quickly continued, “No, shut it, you’ll just have to deal”.

 

 Bobbi scoffed, and Peter moved closer to her, rubbing her shoulder, “Sorry”.

 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “It’s...fine, I guess”. With a huff, she placed her hands on her hips, “This’ll just be a vacation; a nice, unwanted, vacation”. She turned to the egg in Peter’s grip, “By the way, why are you still holding that?”

 

Peter blinked, bringing the egg up to eye level, “I…don’t know,” he turned to Anansi, “Hey, why’d you toss this to me?”

 

Anansi shrugged, “It’s one of the experiments”.

 

“What, you want me to sit on it?”

 

“If you’re into that sort of thing”.

 

Peter spluttered, “W-Wait, let’s go back a few steps; why me? There are literally dozens of other Spider-Men and Women out there, why me?”

 

At that, Anansi smiled softly, “Ah, because my boy, you are the current favorite”. Anansi lifted his head up, staring at the moon as it rose to its apex, “Like I said, this used to be my duty, back in the beginning. Although, we are being far more considerate of you than the Great Weaver was of me”.

 

Peter levelled the first Spider a blank stare, “Really? You call kidnapping me and my girlfriend, along with our bed, in the middle of the night, considerate?”

 

Anansi shrugged, “We could have grabbed you when you were having sex”.

 

Peter and Bobbi both flushed. The latter sputtered, “Wha—the hell are yo—”

 

Anansi cut her off with a wave of the hand, “I can smell it on you; though it is admittedly faint,” he turned to Karn, “You gave them, what, twelve hours?”

 

Bobbi whipped her head around at the hybrid (Peter was too mortified to move), “Y-You watched us?!”

 

“No, no, no no no ” Karn hastily replied, “I was preparing to grab Peter from your apartment when I noticed the candles and wine. I decided to give you both a few hours before trying again,” he rubbed his forearm, “Only, when I came back, you two wouldn’t let go of each other, and I was pressed for time—have I apologized for grabbing you yet?”

 

Bobbi’s face set into a scowl, “No,” she ground out.

 

“Ah,” Karn gulped, “I apologize”.

 

Anansi cleared his throat, “As fun as this is, we should all be on our separate ways”.

 

Ero nodded, “Yes…rest assured, we won’t just leave you out to dry. We’ll be checking in on you periodically”.

 

Karn continued, “And you will be brought back to your dimension. Just, you know, after we deem your tasks complete”.

 

Peter frowned, “And what are my tasks?”

 

Anansi chuckled, “They’ll be obvious once you see them”.

 

The original Spider-Man then turned to a pair of trees, flicking his wrists out, forming a large spider-web between them. As red mist pooled from the webs center, Anansi turned around, bowing, “Until we meet again,” he stated dramatically. As he stood straight, he nodded towards Peter, “It was nice to finally meet you, face-to-face,” and then back flipped through the web, disappearing in the mist.

 

Ero walked over to the web, stopping just in front of it. She turned around, staring at Peter and Bobbi (though her stare seemed to turn into a glare for the latter), then abruptly melted into her individual spiders, which quickly crawled into the mist.

 

Karn hopped over to the web now; and he too turned to face Peter and Bobbi. He rubbed the back of his head, “Again, terribly sorry for—”

 

“Just,” Bobbie cut him off with a wave, “get out of here”.

 

Karn wrung his hands, lingered for a few more seconds, turned around. But he stopped with a gasp, turning around to shoot a thin cord of webbing over Peter’ shoulder.

 

He tugged the webbing, catching the mattress as it fell into his hands. “I’ll just, uh, hold onto this”. With that said, he turned around, stepping into the web. Then, the mist dissipated, and the web dissolved into dust.

 

Bobbi stared at the spot where the web was, then slowly turned to her boyfriend, “So…these are friends of yours?”

 

Peter shrugged, walking for the backpack, “Sort of. They’re all intricately connected to an ancient spider-god. I just met Anansi, so I can’t tell you anything you didn’t hear,” he kneeled down, placing the egg to the side as he dug through the pack, pulling out a shirt and a pair of pants, “Karn used to be an Inheritor, a bunch of energy vampires that like to kill animal people. But somewhere along the line he turned into the Master Weaver”.

 

“And what is—”

 

“Think Julia’s current gig, but on a much larger scale”.

 

Bobbi nodded, “And the literal spider-lady?”

 

Peter grunted as he pulled the shirt down his head, “She’s…a bit more of a mystery. I met her a few years ago; said she wanted to test my ‘resolve’ or something, which basically meant she wanted to kill me. I thought she had some sort of deal with Kaine, but then again, his cellular degeneration started up again, so I guess not”.

 

Bobbi nodded, then sighed forlornly, staring up at the sky.

 

Peter, guilt welling up in his chest, slowly walked over, wrapping her in a small hug, “…Sorry you had to get wrapped up in this”.

 

Bobbi clicked her tongue, leaning her head back into the crook of his neck, “It’s fine. Besides, it’s been awhile since I’ve had to deal with interdimensional craziness”.

 

Peter snickered, “It’s a bit too soon for me. Plus, I just cashed in my ‘interdimensional craziness’ punch card”.

 

Bobbi turned around, wrapping her arms around Peter’s waist, “Really? What’d you get?”

 

“A free meal at Five Guys”.

 

Bobbi groaned lightly.

 

“I’m actually not kidding”.

 

She flicked his bicep, “I swear, you and Clint”.

 

Peter scoffed dramatically, “Oh, sure, spoil the mood”.

 

Bobbi chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure I can freshen it up”.

 

She leaned up, her face inches away from his, lips puckered and ready.

 

“ _Before I forget_ —”

 

“GAH!” Peter and Bobbi jumped back as a voice suddenly spoke in their heads.

 

“ _Oops, did I ruin a moment?_ ”

 

Peter scowled, “What do you want, Anansi?” he said aloud.

 

Anansi harrumphed, “ _Young ones these days, no respect_ ”.

 

Bobbi, whose previous annoyance resurfaced with a vengeance, growled, “Get to the point”.

 

A sigh, _“You’re about fifty miles northeast of a town called ‘Narda’. There’s a map in the pack; you can figure things out from there”._

 

His voice vanished after that, leaving Peter and Bobbi in silence.

 

After a moment, Peter asked, “You think he’s gone?”

 

Bobbi nodded, “I think so…I swear, he did that on purpose”.

 

Peter idly nodded in agreement, “Well, he better not do it again”. He craned his head up to look at the sky, “Ok, we’d better get a look at that map, figure out our next move”.

 

Bobbi grunted, walking towards the pack, only to pause. “…Did you hear that?”

 

Peter walked over, “Hear wh—” only to pause himself as he heard a soft _squeak_ , followed by another.

 

Peter zeroed in on the sound’s source, which, unsurprisingly, was the egg he’d put down moments ago.

 

Bobbi crossed her arms, eyeing the shaking, squeaking egg, “I guess this is the first of those ‘experiments’.

 

Peter nodded, narrowing his gaze as a small crack appeared on its surface, “…What do you think it’s gonna be?”

 

Bobbi pursed her lips, “…A dragon”.

 

“Really?”

 

“Can you think of anything else?”

 

Peter opened his mouth, but snapped it shut when, no, he couldn’t.

 

They decided to watch on in silence, though when the cracks along the shell formed a distinctly web-like pattern, Peter muttered, “I don’t know if that’s funny, or creepy”.

 

Then, a lavender snout burst through the egg, shattering it to reveal—as Bobbi accurately guessed—a dragon. A purple dragon, about a foot-and-a-half long if one included the tail, with four feet, and a pair of leathery, bat-like wings. It stretched, spreading its wings, opening its jaw , revealing the needle-sharp teeth which lined its jaw, a forked tongue darting out, licking up some fluid falling off its snout. When it was done stretching it, it settled into a cat-like squat, staring up at Peter and Bobbi with startlingly intelligent bright purple eyes.

 

Bobbi shifted her gaze to Peter, “How caught up are you on ‘Game of Thrones’?” she joked, only to frown at Peter’s mesmerized expression.

 

When he started to lean down to meet the winged reptile, Bobbi rushed forward, grabbing his shoulder, “Hey!” she shouted, “The hell are you doing?”

 

That shook Peter out of his stupor, and he stumbled onto his back, eyes wide in shock.

 

The dragon squeaked, one out of what must have been shock, and another, directed squarely at Bobbi, of what appeared to be anger.

 

Bobbi, in turn, glared at the hatchling. It hissed, switching its gaze between her and Peter.

 

Kneeling down, Bobbi said, “Peter, what happened, what did it do?”

 

Peter swallowed, panting heavily, “I-It was like some sort of proto-telepathy. It was trying to compel me to…to touch it”.

 

“What, like some sort of reverse imprinting?”

 

Peter shook his head, “I suppose, but, bottom-line, I don’t think it meant any harm”.

 

Bobbi sent him a bemused look, “…You want to touch it, don’t you?”

 

Peter pointed to the young dragon, “Just look at it, all scared and alone”.

 

Bobbi did so, begrudgingly noting the anxious gleam in its eyes.

 

She sat back, crossing her arms, “Fine, go ahead, be its mama”.

 

Peter smirked, “Would that make you the papa?”

 

Bobbi rolled her eyes, “Step-papa at most”.

 

Peter huffed, moving to his feet, stepping towards the young beast. As it turned its surprisingly bright gaze towards him, Peter felt the same wave of compulsion wash over him, but this time he was prepared, and managed to block most of it out.

 

The dragon blinked confusedly—Peter could only guess that its telepathic powers were instinctual, and it had no clue how to proceed when they were stymied—but stepped forward regardless to meet Peter.

 

Peter smiled softly, holding his right hand out, palm facing the young reptile, “Hey there, sorry about all that. Guess this is all new for you, huh?”

 

The dragon, inches away from his palm, stared into his eyes. Peter found its piercing eyes a touch unnerving but matched its stare—years of watching animal planet, along with a deep, primal part of himself, told him averting his gaze might not end well.

 

So, the Dragon and the Spider stared each other down, neither willing to be the first to end their little game.

 

Eventually, however, experience won out, and the dragon shut its eyes, pressing its snout into Peter’s palm.

 

Suddenly, the dragon’s young mind burst through Peter’s defenses, causing him to cry out.

 

As Bobbi rushed forward, the dragon stepped back, eyeing Peter with an impassive stare.

 

Peter held up his hand, clenching it into a fist as his blood boiled.

 

After agonizing minutes, the pain went away, leaving a numb tingle in its wake.

 

Slowly, Peter unclenched his fist, staring wide-eyed at the glowing white oval resting in the middle of his palm.

 

**A/N: A few things:**

  * **Did you know the entirety of the Inheritance Cycle takes place in a little over one in-universe year?**
  * **Peter only has his vanilla powers; mainly because the ability to almost instantly shut people up with a flick of the wrist is OP as fuck in the world of the Inheritance Cycle.**
  * **I wrestled with the idea of bringing a female friend of Peter’s along for the ride. I ultimately decided to go for it because it sets up some interesting ideas further along the story. My first choice was, of course, MJ; but, in all honesty, she’s kind of useless outside of moral support (unless you count ‘Renew Your Vows’ MJ, but that version relies on some heavy technology). Then, in the complete opposite direction, I considered Carol Danvers, but she has the exact opposite problem—she’s so powerful, all conflict is rendered practically meaningless. After that, I settled on Felicia Hardy; after all, she has her own skills without being overpowering or useless, and I even typed out a fair bit of this chapter with her in mind, but then I realized something. She would not give a shit about the struggles of anyone other than herself (and maybe Peter); it would be a goddamn slog to keep her in character, bitching and moaning about wanting to leave Alagaësia and its troubles behind (I mean, I’m sure it could be done, but I don’t want to be the guy who does it). Following that realization, I’d resigned myself to just having Peter be alone, until I remembered that he’s currently dating Barbara “Mockingbird” Morse, a capable (but not OP) heroine. Anyway, be sure to leave a review. Later.**




	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Getting Your Bearings

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

Peter stared down at his hand, then back at the dragon currently finishing off its third squirrel of the night. It held a femur in its mouth—sucking on the marrow, Peter supposed—and stared at him. 

 

He felt a tingle in the front of his skull, and a strange feeling wash over his stomach. Peter leaned forward, resting his cheek in his palm, “Guess you’re still hungry, huh?”

 

He heard a snort from his left, “Another one of those ‘psychic feelings’?”

 

Peter rolled his eyes, “Yes, actually,” he brought up his hand to catch the dry strip of jerky that Bobbi tossed him, holding it down towards the reptile, which eagerly snapped it up.

 

Bobbi huffed, poking at their campfire, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be linked with that thing?” The dragon stopped its chewing, narrowing its eyes at her.

 

Peter hummed, frowning as he felt a spike of anger enter his thoughts, absent-mindedly reaching for its back, stroking it lightly. The beast purred contently, and Peter smiled as its irritation melted away. But as he turned to Bobbi, his smile turned into another frown in the face of her blank stare.

 

“What?”

 

Bobbi’s gaze narrowed slightly, “It’s just…didn’t you get brainwashed by Venom, like, a month ago?”

 

Peter’s frowned deepened fractionally, “Actually, it wasn’t Venom, it was Venom’s clone, Mania; and Venom and I actually parted on good terms after everything was said and done. Hell, even Felicia doesn’t hate me anymore!”

 

Bobbi waved her arm, “Sure, sure. It’s just, well, whenever I’ve gotten mind-controlled I’d give psychics a wide berth for more than three weeks.”

 

Peter shrugged, “Fair enough.” He turned back to the dragon, which was now staring up at him with those scarily intelligent, lavender eyes. He sighed, “I guess…I messed up with Venom, in the beginning. It…mostly didn’t mean any harm; it was scared and confused, brought into a new world after spending god knows how long in that machine in Battleworld. So, when I saw this little guy,” he pointed to the dragon, which lifted its head up, lips curling into a sort of smile, “and felt its worry and confusion…I want to do things right this time around.”

 

Bobbi rest her head in her hands. Groaning lowly, she dragged her hands down her cheeks, head hung low, “…All right, fine, you’ve got your reasons; and it’d be cruel to just get rid of the thing.”

 

Peter smiled appreciatively, though the dragon snorted, narrowing its eyes at Bobbi.

 

Bobbi replied in turn, grunting, “I don’t think it likes me.”

 

Peter clicked his tongue, “Yeah, it really doesn’t,” he frowned, “Should really come up with a name for the thing.”

 

The, seemingly ignorant of Peter’s words, lay on its belly, flicking its tongue out to clean its claws.

 

“Yeah,” Bobbi agreed, “‘it’ is pretty demeaning. Any ideas?”

 

The Spider tapped his cheek, “Well, first thing to do is figure out what gender it is—if it even has one.”

 

Bobbi stood up, walking closer to peer down at the reptile, “...Its got spikes growing out of its face, and a line of them on its back; male lizards are the spiky ones, right?”

 

“Eh, maybe,” Peter grabbed the dragon, ignoring its surprised squeak as he lifted it over head, “But that’s not truly indicative of gender, I should know, I fight The Lizard on a weekly basis” he lifted the tail, frowning at the slight discomfort passing through his bond, as well as the lack of any obvious markings. After a brief inspection, he sighed, placing it back on the ground, “Nothing.”

 

Bobbi lifted her shoulders, “Have you tried asking it? You’ve got that bond, after all.”

 

Peter shook his head, and turned towards the infant dragon, which in turn faced him, staring up at him with its bright, inquisitive eyes, “You wouldn’t happen to know your biological sex, would you?”

 

Peter furrowed his brow as he felt the dragon’s confusion, “Sorry. Are you a boy, or a girl?”

 

The dragon stared at Peter, still unsure as to the meaning of his words.

 

Peter’s shoulders fell, “Do you even know what I am talking about?”

 

The dragon purred lightly, leaning forward to press its head into Peter’s hand. Peter’s lips curled into a small smile, and he scratched the beast’s jawline, eliciting another, longer purr.

 

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

 

Bobbi let out a breath, turning back to the fire, “Well, if we aren’t going to name it, might as well go to sleep, rest up for tomorrow.”

 

Peter replied an affirmative, moving towards the bag to see if he could find a sleeping bag or something. Unfortunately, the only thing there, aside from food and clothes, was a pair of wool blankets and one pillow.

 

When Peter relayed this to Bobbi, the woman shrugged, standing up in front of the dead fire, “Eh, at least there’s grass,” she wiped soot off her pants, “I’ll take first watch.”

 

Peter, already settled on top of one of the blankets, sent Bobbi a confused look, “Why?”

 

Bobbi scoffed, “You’re kidding, right?”

 

Peter simply cleared his throat, tapping his forehead.

 

In turn, Bobbi placed her hands on her hips, frowning, “Right, because that was so helpful when we got kidnapped from the apartment.”

 

Peter scratched his neck, an uneasy grin worming onto his face, “Uh…well, that was a ‘once in a blue moon’ kind of thing. Karn and the others are basically gods with my powers—they’re going to have greater control over our shared abilities. But other than those three, nothing else can get past my spider-sense. Well, them and the Symbiotes, and my clones, and Aunt May, and if it starts to rai—”

 

“Shut up,” Bobbi cut him off with a wave of her hand. She turned to face the sky, glaring at the moon beaming down on them. She let out a soft growl, “Screw it,” she started to pull of her leather armor, “I’m too tired.”

 

Peter smiled, scooting over and patting the space next to him. With a huff, Bobbi lied down next to him, “Wait,” she paused, “Who gets the pillow?”

 

Wordlessly, Peter slid the item under her head. At Bobbi’s inquisitive stare, he said, “I’ll be fine. Can’t be any worse than my first apartment.”

 

Bobbi smirked, cupping Peter’s cheek, “…I’m still miffed about all this.”

 

A snort, “Join the club; thinking of making jackets”.

 

Bobbi grinned, moving pillow under Peter. Before Peter could so much as utter a question, Bobbi placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down and resting her head on his chest.

 

Peter smiled, wrapping Bobbi up in one arm, pulling her closer.

 

He felt small spike of emotion—it didn’t feel like anything specific—through his bond and turned towards the dragon. It stalked forward, tilting its head as its eyes shifted between Peter and Bobbi. Silently, Peter beckoned it to move closer, and it did so. The dragon stopped at his torso, stomping the ground beneath it before lying down, curled in on itself.

 

Peter gently scratched the reptile’s side, and closed his eyes, drifting to sleep.

 

**Line Break**

 

The night passed by uninterrupted. Peter blearily opened his eyes, momentarily shocked at the canopy above him, before last night’s events came roaring back. He groaned lightly, sinking his head further into the pillow, rubbing his temples. Absent-mindedly, he dropped his hands to his side, frowning when his left his wet grass. It took only a second for his tired mind to register the lack of a scaled beast; after which, he bolted upright in panic, ignoring Bobbi’s soft curse as she was sent sprawling.

 

Thankfully, a sharp squeal entered Peter’s ears, and he felt a quick reassuring presence in his mind. He jerked his head to the left, relief washing over him as the dragon came into view, dragging a bloody, fresh corpse—of what, Peter couldn’t tell—with it.

 

It stared Peter directly in his eyes, and after a brief moment, went back to eating.

 

Peter covered his eyes, shaking his head lightly. He then let out a soft ‘ow’ as a finger jabbed him in the shoulder.

 

“Thanks for the rude awakening,” Bobbi muttered somewhat crossly.

 

Peter shrugged sheepishly, “Sorry about that,” he stood, offering a hand to help her up, “It’s just—”

 

“You lost sight of the dragon,” Bobbi took the offered hand, “I gathered.”

 

After that, Peter walked over to their pack, pulling out the map and some food—nuts and dried fruit— and a change of clothes, as Bobbi put on her leather armor.

 

Peter unfurled the map, munching on some of the nuts. Bobbi sat down next to him, popping a raisin into her mouth, “So, we going to head to that town?” She pointed to the spot with the word _Narda_ printed on it, “Get the lay of the land, some clothes; for me at least?”

 

Peter frowned, “Maybe.”

 

“Why wouldn’t we?”

 

Peter merely pointed towards the dragon, who had finished its meal and was now lying in a thin ray of light poking through the canopy, its purple scales shimmering in the sun.

 

Bobbi frowned, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand, “Yeah, it’s not exactly inconspicuous. But hey, maybe people revere these things as god?”

 

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling off his shirt to change, “Sure, add cultists to the mix.”

 

Bobbi huffed, “Okay, _you_ don’t have to go. I’ll be fine on my own.”

 

Peter mulled over her words, and then nodded, putting on the rest of his clothes. He clapped his hands, “Sounds like a plan.”

 

As Bobbi started to pack everything up, Peter walked over to the dragon, who’d finished sunbathing, and was looking up at Peter with a curious expression. Peter frowned lightly, looking over his shoulder, “Are we walking, or running?”

 

Bobbi hefted the pack, shifting her gaze between the map and the sun, “The faster we get there, the better,” she replied off-handedly.

 

Peter hummed, turning back to the dragon. He crouched down, reaching for it, “Okay, this might be a little uncomfortable, but you’re just going to have to bear with it for a little while.”

 

The dragon didn’t outwardly react to Peter’s words, so he took as a sign of acceptance, and picked it up. The beast squirmed slightly when it got off the ground but settled down as he brought it to his chest.

 

Peter cradled it in one arm, peering down at it, “Hey…did you get bigger?” The dragon stared at him quizzically but didn’t do or say anything.

 

Peter shrugged, smiling as he felt a sense of security through their bond.

 

As he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Bobbi, she turned to him, focusing on the dragon, “…We can put it in the pack if you want.”

 

Peter shook his head, “Nah, we’ll be fine. What about you?” Bobbi lifted her head slightly, “After all, you can’t move like I can.”

 

Bobbi snorted, “Don’t worry web-head, I can keep pace.”

 

Peter smirked, “I’ll hold you too that,” and without further preamble, leaped into the tree line, laughing as the dragon held to his chest squealed at the sudden movement.

 

Bobbi shook her head at her boyfriend’s antics, but a smile wormed its way onto her face nonetheless.

 

**Line Break**

 

Peter held his head in his hands, his feet and back sticking to a tree trunk a few feet in the air. He lifted his head, ignoring the sight of the dragon eating yet another large rodent, settling on the medieval town in the distance.

 

“…Honestly,” he looked down at his shirt and pants, “The clothes and map should have made it obvious.”

 

He then felt a buzz in the back of his head, looking over his shoulder to see Bobbi jog into view. She came to a stop just below him, quirking a brow at his expression, “What’s wrong?”

 

Wordlessly, Peter pointed to the town. When Bobbi caught sight of it, she grimaced, “Ah…should have seen that coming.”

 

Peter sighed, hopping down from the tree, “Okay, so I guess I’ll be the one going down alone.”

 

Bobbi crossed her arms, “What that’s supposed to mean?”

 

Peter gave her his beast deadpan stare, “How much do you know of European society in the 1300’s?”

 

Bobbi’s narrowed her gaze, before she caught on to his implication, which furrowed her brow further, “Oh…dammit!” She glared up at the sky, “Really! You just had to drop us off in a backwards fantasy world?!”

 

Peter ginned uneasily, “To be fair, you were brought here on accident.”

 

“Don’t remind me,” she groused. She pinched the bridge of her nose, “…Do you even know how to gather information?”

 

Peter rubbed his shoulder, “Uh…drink martinis and play cards?”

 

Bobbi groaned, and spent the next half-hour carefully coaching Peter on how to properly gather information from the local populace—and gather extra clothes for Bobbi, if possible.

 

Once Peter was confident he wasn’t going to make a (total) ass of himself, he turned to the dragon, which was sleeping on the grass.

 

He carefully walked forward, crouching down to poke its shoulder. As it lazily opened one of its eyes, Peter smiled down at it, “Hey, I’m going to leave you alone for a bit, and you’re going to stay here, okay?”

 

Peter frowned as a mild sense of confusion filtered through their bond, and Peter slowly repeated his words, gesturing along this time.

 

Now he felt a clearer emotion, irritation.

 

Peter huffed as the dragon stood, intent on following him. In response, Peter put his hand on its back—careful to avoid the spikes—and held it in place, staring it down, “No, you’re going to stay with Bobbi.”

 

The dragon squirmed under his grip, but Peter held fast. Eventually, it stopped its struggling, opting to glare at Peter in one last act of defiance.

 

Peter smiled apologetically, and after sending a quick feeling of assurance through their bond he turned around to walk to Narda.

 

**Line Break**

 

Peter was thankful that the sun was directly overhead, it meant that the streets—if that’s they were even called in this era—were mostly empty. Peter supposed that there should have been guards milling around the entrance, but they were either in-between shifts, or no one wanted to be caught in the heat.  

 

Another thing Peter was thankful for was the nonexistent language barrier; English was the name of the game, it seemed. Although, these people were also fond of that old-timey cursive font, the kind that made his head hurt when he was a kid.

 

Peter stopped in front of a building, the word ‘Tavern’ in faded black paint on a sign hanging over the entrance. He took a deep breath, and after a quick scan of his spider-sense, jumped up on the wall, slowly crawling into the building.

 

Peter scrunched up his nose as stale alcohol wafted up his nose, but ignored it in favor of listening on the conversations occurring below him—he smirked lowly, no one ever looked up.

 

He quickly grew bored; apparently people in taverns just wanted to sit down and drink in silence, who knew?

 

Just as he was about to give up, however, a bunch on men in armor entered the tavern. They grabbed a table in the back and started to talk amongst themselves. Peter crawled closer to them.

 

“…-ny news about the war?”

 

Peter frowned.

 

“Sort of,” one of the men took off his helmet, running a hand through his hair long blonde hair, “You lot have any family in Carvahall?”

 

A man with a scar across his nose raised his hand, “Yea, got a cousin up there, owns some cattle.”

 

“Not anymore he doesn’t.”

 

The man leaned closer, “What do ya mean?”

 

The men took a moment to order their meals as a waitress—or whatever they were called in this day and age, Peter mused—swung by. After that, Blondie continued, “Empire set those Razzer-things on ‘em. They’ll be gone before the weeks end.”

 

Gasps chorused round the table. Though one of the men, the only one with a full beard, scoffed, “Bout time.”

 

Scar-Face glared at Beardy, “Bite your tongue!”

 

Beardy waved him off, “Oh, come off it! Those people were rebel sympathizers. After all, that Dragon Rider, Erak or whatever, is from there,” he swept his gaze across the table, “No way in hell those people didn’t help the boy raise that thing!”

 

The other men agreed with various levels of grace and fell into a brief silence. After their drinks arrived, Scar-Face asked, “Think anyone might have made it out?”

 

Beardy snorted, after which Blondie smacked him on the arm. Blondie then turned to Scar-Face, “I’m sure your cousin made it out okay.”

 

“Where?” as the men all turned to the voice, belonging to a bald man, who held his hands up, “I’m just saying, the only place anyone could’ve escaped to, without running into the Empire, is the Spine.”

 

Scar-Face nodded sadly, “And anyone who winds up there is as good as dead.”

 

The men, even Beardy, offered Scar-Face their sympathies. After that, their food arrived, and they abandoned conversation in favor of eating.

 

By then, Peter had already left.

 

**Line Break**

 

Bobbi scratched her nose as she looked over the map once more, mapping the possible routes they could take.

 

A short squeak broke her concentration, and with a long-suffering sigh, she shifter her attention to the dragon, which was staring sadly at the town. “It hasn’t even been two hours,” she muttered.

 

At that, the dragon looked over its shoulder, narrowing its gaze at Bobbi.

 

Bobbi replied in turn.

 

Thankfully, before the ‘conflict’ could escalate, a figure carrying a burlap sack jumped down from the trees. The dragon squeaked happily, running up to Peter. Peter smiled down at it, sitting down to scratch its chin.

 

Bobbi grunted, “Any luck.”

 

Peter’s smile faltered, “Well…this country is at war.”

 

Bobbi let out a loud groan, hanging her head low.

 

“And dragons aren’t looked upon kindly; one of them is owned by some rebels.”

 

Bobbi groaned again, louder, as she fell onto her back, pressing her hand against her forehead, “Goddammit!”

 

“I know,” Peter held up the sack, “Got you some clothes though—only slightly used.” He tossed to sack over to Bobbi.

 

But she ignored it, instead reaching for the map, holding it up over her head, “Okay, so it looks like we’ll be camping for the _entire_ time we’re here,” she shrugged, dropping the map on her chest, “Unless you feel like shacking up with these rebels?”

 

Peter snorted, “Let’s call that plan Z-9.” He looked to his left, “But I think those mountains would be a nice place to call home for a bit.”

 

Bobbi hummed, holding the map back up, “…The Spine?”

 

Peter nodded, “Apparently it’s a very dangerous place to traverse.”

 

Bobbi sat back up, tracing the mountain range with her finger, “...It’d be pretty easy to avoid people.”

 

“And this little guy—or girl,” Peter said as he pat the dragon on its head, “Can roam to its heart content.”

 

Bobbi mulled over the options, and after coming to a decision, nodded her head, “All right, we leave after we eat.”

 

**A/N: Split this one up into two. Not much else to say. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Natural Order

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

Peter came to a few realizations in the weeks that followed his, Bobbi’s, and his dragon’s move to the ‘Spine’, as the locals called it.

 

First, his dragon (now named Helia, more on that later) grew at an exponential rate. By the third day, she was as tall as his shins, and about four feet long if you included the tail. She was about nine feet long after two weeks and, when she ‘stood’ she reached his armpits. Her wings grew as well, and she was now strong enough that she was able to fly on her own. Peter could admit that sometimes he’d just spend an hour or two watching her dance in the sky—and it was during those times that Peter wished he had his webshooters more than ever. On a more humorous note, her spikes and teeth had become even sharper, and, occasionally, if she made a sharp enough movement, she would get her spikes stuck on a tree—even now, Peter chuckled at the sheer mortification she’d (unwillingly) sent through their bond.

 

Speaking of, their bond; it, and her intellect, grew proportionally to her size. After a week, she was able to send him quick images of whatever caught her attention, and even transmit positive emotions to cheer him up during his melancholier moods (and no, he did not brood over his responsibilities to New York). She could also show that she was, well, a girl—which she, unfortunately, achieved by dragging the fresh corpse of a doe to Peter, and pointing from it to herself until he got the message. Finally, they could name her! Admittedly, it took a few days (Bobbi said she was being needlessly picky, to which his dragon responded with a low hiss and a puff of smoke). But she, the dragon, settled on Helia, the fifteenth name on the list (after gems such as Periwinkle, Query, and Vervain).

 

Unfortunately, the good news could not last. His third and fourth realization was a source of irritation for him and Bobbi.

 

First (or third), the local fauna was ginormous; one example being the pack of wolves that would have ambushed them—well, not really, what with Peter’s spider-sense and all—were it not for a warning from Helia, who was flying overhead, swooping down to both warn the two humans, and startle the wolves. After that, they ran into giant bears, giant snakes, giant fish (and Peter most certainly did not scream like a five-year-old when its fin brushed up against him, nor did he feel a sense of sadistic glee when they cooked and ate it the following night). The size differences were particularly vexing for Bobbi, because they came across deer, chipmunks, squirrels, and all sorts of birds, and they were all normal sized. And whenever the mood struck, Bobbi would rant on and on about all the different variables, geography, prey-predator ratio, chemicals, etc. that might attribute to the discrepancies.

 

It was all fascinating, really, but Peter would always find himself distracted by the little things; mainly her lips, her hair, that shine in her eyes, those kinds of things. And he caught (and sensed) her lingering gaze on him when he’d change his clothes or contort as only a spider can. But there was one large hitch in any and all plans for them to get intimate.

 

Helia…she was clingy. When she wasn’t out hunting, which she always did within eyesight of Peter (which was easy when you could fly), she liked to spend her time with him, either lying next to him at camp, or (literally) dragging him along with her as she explored their surroundings. To say nothing of the nights, when she would curl up next to him, insisting that he rest his head on her body. Thankfully, Bobbi was appreciative of the fact that, for all her stunning intellect, Helia was an infant, and as such would cling to her ‘parent’ until she reached maturity. But, well, the two of them were only human; genetic tampering notwithstanding.

 

Now, Peter hung upside down from a tree branch, dutifully ignoring the fact that his girlfriend was in the middle of a bath just fifty feet away.

 

Below, coiled near the trunk of the tree, Helia let out a low rumble, curious as to the source of Peter’s discomfort.

 

Peter stayed silent, not willing to subject his dragon to his frustrations and…desires. Peter frowned, mulling over the fact that he’d referred to Helia as _his_ dragon. He’d been doing that a lot lately, and, despite everything—the kidnapping, the weird imprinting thing they had going on, living in the wilderness for weeks as she grew—it felt right.

 

Before Peter could further muse on the subject, he felt a frantic panic through his bond. Peter dropped to the ground next to Helia, who was standing on all fours, glaring up at the sky and emitting a low snarl, which quickly evolved into a loud roar. Before Peter could tell try and calm her down, figure out what was going on, his spider-sense blared in the back of his head.

 

He let his sixth sense guide him, and he lifted his head upward. After taking a moment, he could just barely see two winged figures up in the clouds, somewhat shielded by the setting sun, maybe fifteen miles away, and getting closer.

 

Helia’s roars had quieted, and Peter could feel an intense, blinding anger through their bond. _“Whatever these things are, she wants to tear them to shreds, and we will!”_

 

Peter jolted back, “Wait, what?”

 

Before he could further question his thoughts, Bobbi burst into the scene, hastily putting on her clothes, “What happened, what’s going on?!”

 

Peter, now trying to calm Helia, sharply gestured towards the figures in the sky.

 

Bobbi frowned, “Other dragons?”

 

Peter, now gently stroking Helia’s neck, keeping her calm, replied, “I don’t know; would Helia react so violently to another member of her own species?”

 

“Depends—wait, what else could it be if not a dragon?”

 

Peter scowled, “Whatever it is, isn’t friendly.” He looked over his shoulder, glancing down at Helia, ignoring the anger she tried to shove through their bond. “… You two need to go.”

 

Helia hissed lowly, and Bobbi shook her head, “Peter—”

 

“Bobbi,” Peter cut her off sternly, “I can catch up with you far easier than you can with me.”

 

Bobbi scowled, “Okay, so you think you’ll be able to escape unscathed from two dragons?”

 

Peter smirked, “Hey, I beat up Firelord once upon a time; think I can handle a couple of flying animals.”

 

“Oh, you’re going to bring that up?!”

 

“It happened!”

 

A pair of loud, harsh screeches high in the air interrupted their budding argument.

 

Peter let out a breath, “Look, Bobbi, whatever’s going to happen, I can give these things the slip faster and easier than you can.”

 

Bobbi opened her mouth to retort, but said nothing when she concluded that, yes, he could.

 

Meanwhile, Peter bent down to face Helia eye-to-eye. He could feel her defiance to his suggestion, her instinct and personal desire demanding she stay and fight.

 

But Peter was having none of that, “Listen,” he stated forcefully, “You’re too young, too vulnerable,” when she tried to avert her gaze, he grabbed her snout with both hands, forcing her to look at him, “You need to stick with Bobbi, all right?”

 

Helia whined, but when Peter stood up, reaffirming his command with a mental push, she walked over to Bobbi, keeping her gaze to the ground.

 

Bobbi let out a sigh, stepping closer to Peter. She squeezed his bicep, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips, “Please, don’t do anything stupid.”

 

Peter smiled, “We both know I can’t promise that.”

 

Bobbi rolled her eyes, stepping backwards, leading Helia away.

 

His dragon stayed rooted in place for a moment, worry shining in her gaze. But, when Peter smiled, sending a gentle, reassuring pulse through their bond, she reluctantly left.

 

Satisfied that the duo was (relatively) safe, Peter turned back to the flying creatures.

 

They were just a mile away now, gliding downwards and screeching wildly. Peter could see them more clearly; he blanched, he hoped these things weren’t adult dragons. They were both covered in thick gray…plates, he supposed, lining their bodies, from their legs to their oblong heads. The plates themselves looked cracked and aged. Large, battered, leathery wings held them aloft; briefly, Peter wondered how they could fly with all the holes in them, but he abandoned that line of thought as they landed with a booming _THUD_.

 

A flash of black from one of the creatures back caught his eye, but a loud screech turned his attention back to the flying beasts. They snapped their jaws at the air, their beady, soulless black eyes darting from him to the direction Helia and Bobbi ran off to. Choosing to ignore that, Peter focused his attention on the black-cloaked figures climbing off the beasts.

 

They stood a little taller than Peter himself, slightly hunched, their cloaks doing a good job of covering their bodies, the only thing Peter could see was a bit of some sort of mask occasionally peeking out from their hoods.

 

“You,” the taller of the two—Peter decided to call him Dan—rasped, leaning forward.

 

Peter plastered a smirk on his face, waving to the duo, “Hey there.”

 

“Where,” Dan continued, “Did you come from?”

 

The shorter one—let’s call him Jim—hissed, stomping forward a couple paces, “That isn’t important! Where did you get that dragon?!”

 

Peter shrugged, “Dragon, what dragon?” He chose to ignore the pointed stares the duo and their mounts gave him.

 

Dan strode forward, pointing to Peter’s palm, “Your mark gives you away,” he then lifted his head, “Along with its stench.”

 

“Her,” Peter absent-mindedly corrected.

 

Jim snarled, reaching into his robes and pulling out a sword. “Don’t waste our time! Bring it out!”

 

Peter stepped backwards, holding his hands out defensively.

 

Curiously, Dan shot his hand out, grabbing Jim’s arm. And then things got weird.

 

Dan started to click, like a beetle. Peter cocked a brow at that, and he recoiled when, as Jim whirled around (answering in kind) his hood fell back slightly, revealing a curved beak, just below a pair of dark, inhuman eyes, which was moving in tandem with the clicks.

 

“ _Okay bird people_ ,” Peter shrugged, “ _I can work with that._ ”

 

Just then, Peter’s spider-sense blared, and one of the flying creatures screeched, beating its wings.

 

Peter jerked his gaze back to the bird people, “Any chance you guys are leaving?”

 

Dan turned from his beast, looking past Peter, “No,” he replied bluntly.

 

The beast lifted off the ground.

 

“You’re going to try and find my dragon, aren’t you?”

 

“We will find it,” Dan corrected.

 

“No, you won’t.”

 

Jim hissed, “We will drag your broken bodies to the Emporer!”

 

Peter shook his head, “Nah,” and crouched down.

 

At that, Dan put his hand on the pommel of his own blade, “What are you—”

 

But Peter ignored Dan in favor of rocketing off the ground, zipping past the flying beast’s head.

 

It squawked in disbelief, stumbling in the air. It lifted its head up, an unfamiliar sense of terror gripping its soul as Peter’s heel zoomed down.

 

The two impacted with a sickening _crunch_ and the beast was sent crashing into the ground, Peter expertly executing a three-point landing in front of the injured beast.

 

He then immediately fell to his back, clutching his foot, “Gah! Geez, what is that thing made of, steel?!”

 

Peter felt the tell-tale blare of his spider-sense. Dropping his left hand to his side, he pushed himself off the ground, corkscrewing in the air to avoid Dan and Jim’s wild swings. He heard the second beast sooner than he sensed it, and a quick look down his torso revealed a scary set of razor-sharp teeth snapping at him. Peter raised his foot, and with his toes barely landing on its snout, vaulted backwards onto a tree, forcing to beast to stumble backwards.

 

Peter landed on a tree branch, crouching down to rub his foot once more.

 

“—ou?”

 

Peter lifted his head up, “What? Sorry, little distracted. Seriously, what are those things made of?”

 

Dan screeched, holding his blade with both hands, “What are you? You can’t be human.”

 

Peter snorted, “It’s rude to ask without giving.”

 

Jim snarled, “We are the Ra’zac!”

 

“Ooh!” Peter smiled, “Is that an apostrophe I hear? Wonderful! Not every day I meet another symbol user. Everyone else just uses spaces, or the odd period.”

 

“Silence!” Jim shrieked, leaping forward with surprising speed and agility, blade poised to cleave Peter in two.

 

Yelping, Peter fell back, swinging around the branch and under Jim, who clicked angrily as his blade cut through the wood as if it were butter.

 

Peter landed in a crouch, twisting to the side to avoid Dan’s strike. The blade nicked Peter’s shirt and alarmingly, the material started to bubble away. Peter blanched, their blades were coated in acid! Quick as a flash, he latched onto Dan’s arm, throwing him upwards into his partner. Peter sniggered as the pair crashed into each other, their blades falling onto the ground, liquidating the grass around them.

 

“GREEAAAHH!!”

 

“RRRAAAAGHH!”

 

Peter whirled around, grimacing at the sight of the two beasts—one of them with a very nasty dent in its head—standing at full height, glaring down at him with their beady black eyes.

 

Peter sighed, “It’s almost like I’m back home.”

 

Line Break

 

Bobbi froze as a twig snapped, only to let out a breath as a pair of deer leapt out from the brush, dashing away. With a sigh she looked down at her fists, clenched and held at her sides, and not for the first time berated herself for not telling Peter to grab some sort of weapon when he went to that town weeks ago—or even sneaking in herself before they moved into these mountains. Sure, she could handle herself well enough bare-handed, but there was something comforting about a nice, sturdy weapon held in her grasp as she bashed some poor fool over the head with it.

 

She scoffed, “ _No time for nostalgia, Bobbi_.”

 

A low whine shook her from her thoughts.

 

 Bobbi huffed, turning to Helia. The dragon had turned around once more, staring into the distance, where Peter was.

 

Bobbi shook her head, “Hey,” when the dragon didn’t respond any more than a twitch of her tail, Bobbi moved forward, “Hey!”

 

That elicited a greater response. Helia turned so that one eye was on Bobbi; accusations layered with worry shining through it.

 

Bobbi placed her hands on her hips, “Look, I get that you’re worried, but relax. Peter’s gotten out of tougher scraps, and he wasn’t lying about the Firelord thing, crazy as it sounds.”

 

Helia huffed, but then her gaze sharpened, and she lowered into a crouch, a low hiss slipping past her maw.

 

Bobbi hopped forward, scanning the tree line, “…What is it?” she asked, forgetting that, for all her intelligence, Helia could not speak.

 

And indeed, the dragon did not speak, only growling lowly, stalking forward a few steps.

 

Suddenly, two low roars assaulted their ears, and Helia whipped her head back in Peter’s direction.

 

“Helia,” Bobbi warned, but it was futile. By the time she turned, Helia was already speeding off in Peter’s direction, leaping between trees before lifting into the air.

 

Bobbi cursed, starting into a sprint, only to grind to a halt as an arrow sunk into the ground in front of her.

 

Snarling, she spun on her heel in the direction the arrow flew from, “Hey!” She pointed harshly into the forest, “I don’t know who you are, but don’t try it!”

 

Another arrow landed in front of her, followed by some sort of grunt.

 

“Okay, fine!” Bobbi spat out, clenching her hands into fists, “But I warn you, I haven’t seen any real action in weeks, so don’t start crying if I get rough!”

 

More grunt like sounds followed, along with rustling bushes and shrubs. Soon enough, she heard the telltale stomping march of a small troop of men.

 

Bobbi bent her knees, eyeing a few tree-branches she could use to gain momentum, only to falter as the…men came into view.

 

Line Break

 

Peter bent down low, impossibly so, to avoid the razor-sharp claws of one of the beasts. He then leapt up, wrapping his arms around its neck and slamming its head into the ground.

 

Peter rolled onto his stomach, springing into a handstand to avoid Dan’s blade, snapping his foot out to kick the bird-man-thing away, smirking at his success. Leg still held out, he spun on his palms, catching Jim in his ribs—at least, Peter assumed they had ribs, they were wearing some sort of armor that worked surprisingly well—sending him flying into one of their mounts (the one not spitting out dirt), which grabbed his cloak with its teeth, and surprisingly, gently placed him on the ground.

 

Peter sighed. He should have ended this minutes ago, lord knows he’d had enough opportunities, not to mention this very moment.

 

“ _But_ ”, his lips curled into a smirk, “ _this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks!_ ”

 

His spider-sense rang in alarm, and Peter bent his head low to avoid a vial of…something; most likely some of that acid that coated Dan and Jim’s blades. Peter whipped a hand up, face falling as he remembered that he didn’t have his webshooters. But then the vial broke against a tree, and the bark melted into a fine mush, and he decided that it was for the best that he couldn’t rely on one of his oldest tricks.

 

Just then, Peter felt a tingle in the back of his mind, but instead of pumping adrenaline through his body, it sent a chill down his spine.

 

When Dan lifted his head into the air, sniffing the air, Peter’s blood froze.

 

Dan dropped his head, a cruel gleam in his cold, dark eyes, “Well, now that your esteemed partner her way,” he said with terrifying glee, “I suppose you know what comes next.”

 

Peter narrowed his eyes, “…You let us go?”

 

Dan let loose a sound somewhere between crinkling paper and burning wood, “The Emperor will take great pleasure in breaking you.”

 

Peter grit his teeth, “Unless he plans on literally erasing my soul, I doubt he could do much.”

 

Before Dan could retort, a loud roar sounded from behind them.

 

Peter’s eyes widened in horror as Helia zoomed overhead. She loosed another roar, and he winced as a torrent of emotions coursed through their bond.

 

Worry. Pride. Relief. Anger. _Bloodlust_.

 

Peter clenched his fist, blocking out his dragon’s emotions, screaming at her; _“Get out of here! I can handle, get away!_ ”

 

But she ignored him, roaring as she dived down at alarming speed, jaws snapping onto one of the mounts necks. The beast screeched, bringing a paw up to swat at Helia, but she’d maneuvered onto its back, forelimbs gripping around its neck.

 

Peter’s spider-sense blared louder than ever, but not for him. Instead, it directed him towards Jim, and time slowed to a crawl as Jim reached into his cloak, reaching for a dagger.

 

Peter’s blood boiled over, and without a second thought, he dashed forward, fist reared back.

 

He idly registered Dan’s distressed call to his partner and didn’t even bother to acknowledge Jim’s slow turn, shocked, evident even on his inhuman face, at the fact that Peter had covered fifty feet in half-a-second.

 

With a harsh bellow, Peter slammed his fist into Jim’s sides. He followed through, swinging his fist upward and throwing Jim into a tree.

 

Peter panted, frowning as a bitter cold bit at his hand. He looked down, recoiling at the blueish goop covering his hands. He quickly looked up, his aggression fleeing his body as he caught sight of Jim slumped against a tree, twitching as blue liquid—blood, Peter realized—oozed down his side.

 

Peter stepped back, “Oh god,” he whispered, “I, I didn—”

 

But he was drowned out by three horrified, anguished cries.

 

Peter let his spider-sense move him to the side as Dan ran forward, coming to a stop and kneeling in front of Jim’s body. His spider-sense blared once more, and Peter jumped high in the air, letting the two beasts rush beneath him. In the sky, he noticed Helia, shaking her head near a felled tree and unsteadily standing on all fours. When he landed, he hopped backwards, landing beside her.

 

She looked up at him, confidence and determination shining through their bond. But a cold stare and stern admonition stopped her in her tracks. Peter didn’t say anything, he didn’t want to say anything, in fear of saying words too harsh to take back, of drudging up memories better left buried.

 

Instead, he focused on the mourning, wailing trio in front of them; an odd sense of pity welling up in his heart, along with a hefty dose of guilt.

 

Then, his spider-sense flared up once more, and Peter shifted his gaze to Dan, who’d stopped wailing, instead glaring at him with pure, unadulterated hatred—now it really felt like he was home.

 

He screeched, grabbing his sword and stalking towards Peter, but let out a sort of squawk as one his mounts bit at his cloak, tossing him onto its back, and bounding away, flying after a few strides.

 

The second mount spent a few seconds gazing mournfully at Jim’s corpse, but quickly snatched it up in its mouth. After sending a scathing glare at Peter, one that tickled a memory he couldn’t quite place, it too flew into the air quickly joining its partner.

 

Peter held his breath until they disappeared from view, only dropping his gaze as the buzz of his spider-sense fell back down to its usual silent hum.

 

Peter shifted his gaze back to Helia, “We need to talk about what just happened.”

 

Helia whined lowly, but held his gaze, a sense of conviction trickling through their bond.

 

Peter grimaced, her lack of guilt bringing up terrible memories of church bells and inky, slimy darkness.

 

But he pushed all that away. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “We’ll talk later. Where’s Bobbi?”

 

Now, Helia’s eyes widened, and she looked behind her. Confusion, she sent through their bond. Peter shook his head, “C’mon then, le—!”

 

Just then, his spider-sense rang loudly, and he swiveled his head to the side, eyes narrowing as Bobbi walked into view. “…How many?”

 

Bobbi hummed, walking forward, “A couple dozen.”

 

“So…they’re on our side?”

 

Bobbi shrugged, stopping at his left, “Other than a couple arrows to keep me from following her,” Bobbi glared at Helia, who snorted, “They were surprisingly cordial.” Bobbi then settled her face into smirk, “Fair warning though, they’re…strange.”

 

Peter chuckled, “What, wolf pelts and war paint?

 

“Yes, actually,” she turned as the bushes and shrubbery started to rustle, “but it isn’t the most interesting part.”

 

Peter cocked brow, but as the first person came into view, and he caught sight of the horns, gray skin, yellow eyes, and bowed legs, he had to concede her point.

**A/N: That’s done. Not much else to say. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Mingling with Locals

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

Peter pursed his lips as he, Bobbi, and Helia followed the goat-men deeper into the woods. They certainly looked strange, with their gray skin and curly horns growing out of their heads. But he beat up mole people every other week, so it wasn’t all that strange. Though their crudely made picks and clubs looked dangerous enough; especially when they tightened their grips whenever Helia suddenly flicked her tail or glided over a knocked over tree.

 

But he wasn’t concerned about their escorts—again, nothing he hadn’t seen before—instead focusing on Helia. That anger he felt when he…killed that thing was unnatural. Well, maybe unnatural wasn’t the right term, it certainly felt real; but it was blinding, the kind of anger he’d felt when Gwen died, or when he and MJ lost their daughter…or when Itsy-Bitsy was making her debut.

 

That last comparison shook him to his core. He’d almost gone berserk during those tense days; the only thing keeping him from cracking being—and he still couldn’t believe it—Deadpool.

 

But Peter didn’t want to deal with those thoughts right now; so, he turned to his oldest coping mechanism, terrible attempts at humor.

 

“So,” he drawled at one of the goat-men, “those horns must come in great for Christmas.”

 

He was ignored.

 

Undeterred, he continued, “I considered adding horns to my original duds—again, for Christmas—but then I saw Loki’s outfit, and realized that was a market I did not want to horn in on…I swear that wasn’t on purpose.”

 

Again, silence. Well, Bobbi groaned, and Helia let out a huff, but still, his target audience was annoyingly stoic.

 

Peter snorted, “Do we even speak the same language, or are my attempts at levity falling on deaf ears?”

 

“Stop talking,” one of the goat-men—the leader, based on the formation—gruffly said.

 

Peter froze, moving forward only when prodded in the back.

 

Bobbi took the opportunity to ask, “You speak En-, er, our language?”

 

The same goat-man grunted, “Only little. Herndall speak better.”

 

Peter said, “And who’s that? Your leader?”

 

The goat-man replied, “Yes.”

 

Peter frowned, asking for clarification, but the goat-man didn’t say anything else.

 

Ten more minutes passed, but it wasn’t all that boring. Peter decided to teach these people the joys of ‘Are we there yet?’. One to his left looked about ready to explode; and he could sense one of the goat-men behind him raise and lower his club every couple of minutes. To say nothing of Bobbi and Helia.

 

However, before anything could escalate, his spider-sense rang loudly.

 

Peter stopped in his tracks, “Hey!” he called out, “Somethings up ahead!”

 

Bobbi and Helia stood on guard, but the goat-men merely eyed Peter with something akin to shock.

 

The leader grunted, his eyes shining with a different gleam than his companions. But he merely turned around, belting out a guttural sentence in his native tongue.

 

Peter and Bobbi exchanged inquisitive looks, only to drop their jaws as the air in front of them shimmered, melting away to reveal a thirty-foot-tall wooden wall in front of a hole carved into a mountain.

 

The lead goat-man bellowed a few more words, and part of the wall _THUNKED_ and fell forward with a crash—a gate, Peter belatedly realized.

 

The lead goat-man let out a grunt, and the group walked forward once more.

 

There were about a dozen goat-men lining the wall, aiming bows and arrows right at Peter and his group. Although, given the space, there didn’t seem to be as many goat-people as there should be…questions for later. Nonetheless, he waved at the guards, smiling as a couple hesitantly waved back before being berated by one of their friends.

 

But his smile faded when he looked around at the literal holes in the wall—and ceiling, which both filtered in light and allowed watchmen to safely gaze down below—each one covered by thick, wool drapes. He could sense more than see the people in them; the majority were hidden just behind the doorways and windows. If he looked closely, he saw what might have been children, but they were whisked away further into their homes before he could focus on them.

 

These people weren’t just wary, they were afraid of them. That brought back some memories.

 

Helia whined lowly, and Peter grunted at the fact that he accidently let some of his thoughts bleed over. Peter spared the purple dragon a glance, heart twinging at her pout. She wanted back in, he surmised.

 

Peter wanted to deny her, stay angry; but then he remembered that she wasn’t even two months old. She was acting on base instinct, she still needed to be taught the intricacies of morality—intricate as it was. Besides, the silent treatment never really worked all that well in his experience.

 

So, Peter opened their bond back up.

 

He could not help but smile broadly as her thoughts surged in joy. She tensed, lifting her head up and letting loose a great, gleeful cry. Peter laughed, until his spider-sense rang in alarm. Quick as a flash, he hopped in front of Helia, holding his arms out. “Wait!” he cried, forcing the approaching goat-men into a reluctant halt. Peter took a deep breath, “She’s just…excited, is all.”

 

The goat-men quickly conversed in their native tongue, sending sharp glares at both Peter and Helia. Eventually, they decided that there was no danger from neither Peter nor Helia and continued their march.

 

Peter hung his head, letting out a low sigh. Peter sidled a long stare at Helia, who at least had the decency to look sheepish over her outburst.

 

Bobbi stepped over to Peter, walking forward with the group, “What was that?” she asked.

 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, “Like I said, she got a little excited,” at Bobbi’s stare, he added, “I’ve been keeping her out of my head since, well, you know. Decided to let her back in.”

 

Bobbi hummed, “Well, let her know that she shouldn’t do that again, while we’re here at least. Rather not test how sturdy these guys’ horns are.”

 

Peter nodded and sent a quick mental message to Helia. She sent back a feeling of annoyance but acquiesced to the request nonetheless.

 

Just then, the lead goat-man grunted, “Here.”

 

Peter and the others found themselves in front of a large wooden archway, leading deeper into the cave, with large sheets of dyed and patterned leather and wool covering the outer walls. The building was also surrounded by large totems depicting animals, but unlike the stereotypical totems back home, these depicted the animal in its entirety. There were hawks, wolves, bears, even a couple that looked like fish.

 

The leader turned to the humans and dragon. He growled, “Stay,” and spun around, entering the large abode.

 

Peter and Bobbi exchanged bemused glances, while Helia settled for sitting on her haunches, entering a staring contest with one of the nearby goat-men.

 

It was actually quite the spectacle. Neither opponent moved save for the twitch of a tail or tap of a to—Peter blinked, tilting his head as he looked down at one of the goat-men’s feet.

 

“…Huh?”

 

Bobbi tapped Peter’s shoulder, “Hey, what’s up? You’re scaring the locals.”

 

Peter, now conscious of the fact that at least four goat-men were brandishing their weapons, calmly stood up, pointing to the one goat-man’s feet, “They’ve got seven toes.”

 

“What?”

 

In reply, Peter pointed to the goat-man’s feet. After taking a moment to count, Bobbi jerked back slightly, “Wow, that’s…how is that stranger than the horns?”

 

Now, one of goat-man grunted out some sort of command, pointing his weapon at Peter and Bobbi—thereby prompting Helia to quit her game, baring her teeth at the goat-man.

 

Calmly, Peter gestured to the goat-man’s feet, and then slowly counted to seven with his fingers.

 

The goat-man caught on, staring down at his feet. He wriggled his fourteen toes, bringing his head up, a question lighting up his eyes.

 

In response, Peter took off his shoe, showing off his five toes.

 

The goat-men exclaimed in surprise, leaning in closer to get a better look at Peter’s—relatively—alien feet.

 

Helia slowly strode forward, settling down beside Bobbi, looking on at the scene of Peter and the goat-men staring at each other’s toes confusedly. She then stared down at her own claws, experimentally flexing them.

 

Bobbi, in turn, opted to pinch the bridge of her nose, mumbling about how only Peter could bond with an alien species over feet.

 

Just then, the lead goat-man came back, barking out a command. The goat-men surrounding Peter flinched, quickly falling back in line.

 

The lead goat-man levelled a stare at Peter. Abruptly, he jerked his head towards the entrance of the dwelling.

 

Peter nodded, walking forward along with Bobbi and Helia.

 

Line Break

 

The first thing Peter noticed was the smell. It wasn’t anything unpleasant; just strong. It reminded him of Chinatown to be honest.

 

The second thing he noticed was a light, continuous buzz of his spider-sense. It wasn’t anything dangerous, like if there were a bomb nearby. More like he was constantly being watched by a camera. Given Helia’s growl, his senses probably bled over to her. But a quick wave of reassurance and she calmed down.

 

The third thing he noticed was the small, grey-skinned, elderly goat-woman—at least, he assumed, given the dress—sitting in front of a large black pot resting over a fire pit. She looked over her shoulder, and Peter forced himself to stay still as she stared at him with glassy eyes.

 

“Hmm,” she hummed, “Your certainly different.” Peter blinked. She spoke exceptionally good…whatever they called English here. But her voice had a strange cadence he couldn’t place.

 

The goat-woman then smiled, chortling lightly, “Surprised that I can speak your language so well?”

 

Peter focused on her voice, eye lighting up as he identified the cadence. It was her native tongue! She wasn’t speaking their language; his brain was just translating it into something he could understand.

 

Briefly, he wondered how that was possible. But then he remembered he had a dragon, so the answer was probably magic.

 

Bobbi, it seemed, arrived at the same conclusion. “That’s some impressive magic,” she said, “I assume it came into effect when we entered the room?”

 

The goat-woman nodded, “I’d set it up just before you entered my home.”

 

Peter looked around, “Well, thanks for that; would be awkward if we just talked through translators, although,” his face scrunched up, “Wouldn’t it be more convenient to just teach yourself the language—with magic,” he clarified.

 

The goat-woman snorted, “You don’t know much about magic, do you?”

 

Peter shrugged, “I know you can’t do it if you’re gagged.”

 

“Or knocked out,” Bobbi supplied.

 

The goat-woman smiled at their responses, turning to the goat-man, “You’re right, Nar Grezna, they are fearless. Especially for a couple of humans.”

 

Peter tilted his head, “Oh! So, you’re name’s Nar. Well,” he extended his hand, “Thanks for the escort.” Nar stared at the offered limb, then back at Peter. “…This isn’t an insult among your people, is it?”

 

Nar grunted, “No, I understand what the gesture means. It’s just that my name is not ‘Nar’, it is Grezna.”

 

Peter nodded in understanding, “So, ‘Nar’ is some sort of title?”

 

Grezna bobbed his head, “Yes. I earned it after I killed a pack of wolves to protect my cub. And this,” he gestured to the goat-woman, “Is Herndall Rushez.”

 

Bobbi cocked a brow, “‘Herndall’ being another title?”

 

Rushez nodded in affirmation, “I am the leader of the Gruvkek Tribe.”

 

“And while we’re at it, what are you guys called?”

 

“We are the Urgalgra. Urgal, in your tongue.”

 

Satisfied at the cultural lesson, Peter and Bobbi then took the time to introduce themselves, and Helia.

 

Rushez hummed, peering closer at Helia. Helia, for her part, perked up at the attention. “Hmmm…the tales do not do her justice.”

 

“What tales?”

 

Grezna shrugged, “The countless generations of slaughter Dragons and Rukacharga enacted upon our people.”

 

Helia looked down at the ground at that.

 

Bobbi shook her head, “Ru-what? That didn’t translate.”

 

“Rukacharga,” Grezna hummed in thought, “It means, uh, ‘Rider of Dragon’ in your tongue.”

 

Peter and Bobbi nodded in understanding. The former then looked at Rushez, “Guess your spell needs work.”

 

Rushez shrugged, “Eh, it’s something to improve on the next time I entertain another race. Which, admittedly, will come about sooner than later.”

 

“Are you talking about the civil war going on?” Rushez and Grezna nodded. Bobbi asked, “Is that why this place looks half-abandoned?”

 

Grezna nodded, “Scores of our strongest warriors’ march to pledge their allegiance to the human rebels.”

 

“Why didn’t you go?” Peter asked, sincerely.

 

Grezna snorted, “Someone must protect our home.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

“And what of you?” Rushez interrupted, “Will you not join the war against the drajl Galbatorix?”

 

Ignoring the venom in her tongue, Peter said, “To be honest, no.”

 

Rushez leaned back, “Really?” She jerked her head at Helia, “Even with the Emperor’s shadow looming over you and your dragon?”

 

Peter snorted, “I can handle some guy on a throne.”

 

Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say. Rushez and Grezna stared at Peter as if he’d grown an extra head. “What are…have you been living under a rock?” Grezna all but shouted.

 

Peter scoffed, “Doesn’t matter. We,” he gestured to himself and Bobbi, “can easily handle whatever this guy can throw at us—even the magic. I mean, probably; don’t really want to test it, but I’m sure it isn’t all that bad,” he added as an afterthought.

 

Grezna and Rushez exchanged incredulous stares. Then, Rushez cleared her throat, “It would appear that you two need to be educated as to the true threat Galbatorix is.”

 

Thus, Rushez told the story of the Dragon Rider Galbatorix and his rise to power.

 

By the end of the tale, Bobbi had paled, and Peter was gently, absent-mindedly petting an equally silent Helia.

 

Rushez sighed solemnly, “As you can no doubt imagine, so long as Galbatorix reigns, you shall never be safe. Especially since you killed one of his Keznika,” she frowned, “Those creatures you fought in the clearing,” she clarified.

 

Peter, meanwhile, held his head in his hands. “God…I thought things were bad before, but this…” he trailed off.

 

Grezna grunted, a frown on his face “You have no choice. You must join the Varden and kill Galbatorix; if not for your own sake,” he trailed off, staring pointedly at Helia.

 

Helia, for her part, growled at the implication. Peter subconsciously tightened his grip on her, taking a few steadying breaths.

 

Helia leaned in closer to Peter, rubbing her head against his side. She transmitted a terrible feeling through their bond. Resignation.

 

Peter smiled sadly, rubbing her snout, “Guess we’ve got a responsibility to these people, huh?”

 

He felt a hand fall on his shoulder and turned to see Bobbi’s worried gaze. Peter shrugged, rubbing her hand. With a sigh, Bobbi nodded her head.

 

Peter stood up, arching his back, “Guess we’re decided. Thanks for the info-session…well, no, not really.”

 

Rushez nodded, face set in a stern frown. She licked her lips, “There is…another thing we need to discuss.”

 

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she then said, “Ordinarily, your kind—that is to say, humans—would not be allowed to enter our home. In fact, tradition would dictate that we kill you,” she held up her hand as Peter opened his mouth, “Yes, we could do nothing to harm you, your domination of the Keznika is proof enough. In fact, the main reason we allowed you entry is because of _how_ you fought the Keznika.”

 

Peter felt an odd lump form in his throat. He gulped, “What do you mean?”

 

Rushez ignored his question, instead jerking her head at Grezna. He nodded, leaving to enter a room further inside the home.

 

He returned a few minutes later, but he wasn’t alone.

 

Following behind was a female Urgal in a long, grey and crimson dress, dark hair falling loosely on her shoulders. She looked young, if her height and horn length—and shape, since they didn’t curve like Rushez’s or Grezna’s—was any indication; she stood just below Grezna’s pectorals without the horns. She kept her gaze to the floor, carefully stepping in line with Grezna.

 

Helia immediately perked up, sniffing the air in the young girl’s direction. She emitted a sense of familiarity to Peter, though she couldn’t describe how this new girl was familiar. Though Peter had a sneaking suspicion.

 

Rushez grunted, “This is Kiruka of the Gruvkek Tribe.”

 

Kiruka made a point of ignoring Peter, Bobbi, and Helia, bowing to Rushez and muttering something Peter couldn’t place.

 

Rushez eyed Kiruka, then turned to Peter, “Demonstrate your power,” she bluntly commanded.

 

Peter, never one to shy from a performance, jumped to the ceiling, sticking to it with all four limbs.

 

Kiruka gasped loudly, falling backwards in shock and disbelief.

 

Peter shifted around, ‘crouching’ on the ceiling, “You going to come up? Or should I come down?”

 

Kiruka jerked her head around to face Grezna, chest heaving. At his gentle nod, she stood to her feet. Hesitantly, she turned to a wall, placing her right hand on it, level with her chest. With a deep breath, she raised her other arm overhead, placing it on the wall as well. She then lifted her left leg, pushing her toes against the wall. Which she then followed with her right leg, at the same time moving her right hand above her left. Followed by her left hand moving in synch with her left leg, and so on and so on, until she was crawling along the wall and ceiling, reminiscent of a spider.

 

She came to a stop just in front of Peter, mimicking his pose. She stared at him in wonder, and, if Peter was not mistaken, a hint of glee.

 

He then smiled, holding out his hand in front of him, “Hey there. I’m Peter Parker, Spider-Man.”

 

Kiruka stayed silent but reciprocated his gesture with a smile.

**A/N: There is next to nothing (substantial) on Urgal culture. Never mind that Eragon spent at least a few days learning about Urgal’s while training with Oromis. Or that he visited an Urgal village at the end of the series. Or the fact Roran commanded a platoon of Urgals after oil-wrestling one of them! Oh, but it’s okay, we know all the intricacies of Dwarf politics and how to best jerk-off an Elf’s ego!...Regardless, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

New Voices

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

Kiruka still hadn’t said a word, though now she and Peter were sitting on the ground, drinking some sort of broth. Rushez had even set aside a large pot for Helia, which she drank with gusto.

 

Grezna snorted as Helia lifted her head from the pot, licking up leftover liquid from her snout. He said, “Hungry little thing, isn’t she?”

 

Rushez chuckled, “Messy too.”

 

Helia bobbed her head, “ _My apologies, but it is very delicious!”_

 

Peter choked on his soup, bending over as he hacked and wheezed.

 

The others in the room had less violent responses.

 

“You can talk?”

 

“She can talk?”

 

“Can she sing?” Peter wheezed.

 

Helia tilted her head to the side, “ _Hmm…I’ve never tried,_ ” she said. Peter frowned, her ‘voice’—as it were—was clearly feminine, and somewhat familiar. 

 

“Woah, back-up!” Bobbi said, “Since when have you been able to talk—er, mentally, at least?”

 

Helia sat on her haunches, “ _Since…five minutes ago_.”

 

“Bullshit,” Bobbi bluntly replied.

 

Helia chortled, “ _Well, I’ve been studying your language for the past few weeks; you’ve a lot of exceptions to your grammatical rules_.”

 

Peter’s frown deepened, where did he know that voice?

 

“Fascinating,” Rushez whispered in awe, “I’d never have imagined that your kind were intelligent enough to learn languages.”

 

 “ _You’ll find that Dragons are capable of many things one might consider,”_ Helia’s lips pulled back into a toothy smile, “ _unnatural_.”

 

And just then, it clicked. She sounded like MJ, but also Gwen. As if someone mashed their voices together into a synthesizer and tweaked it until a coherent amalgam came out. MJ’s higher-pitched voice, but with Gwen’s steady cadence.

 

Peter pulled his knees up to his chest, this was just what he needed...

 

Helia, seeming to sense his distress, trotted closer to him, “ _What is wrong, little hero?”_

 

Peter’s eye twitched, “Nothing,” he muttered, “You just—wait, what did you call me?”

 

“ _You are a ‘hero’, are you not?_ ”

 

“No, that’s fine,” he shook his head, “But, little? I’m bigger than you.”

 

“ _Not for long_ ,” she teased.

 

“Sure, but I’m older than you.”

 

Helia blew air out of her snout, “ _My egg was lain 30 years before the Riders fell_.”

 

Peter cocked a brow, “I…I don’t think that’s how that works.”

 

“Depends on who you ask,” Bobbi supplied.

 

Peter thanked her, and then said, “Whatever, and we’ll talk about it later, there are slightly more pressing matters to attend to.”

 

Helia’s scaled brows furrowed; she snaked her head around, staring at Kiruka, “ _Yes…I suppose there are_.” She walked forward a few paces, towards Kiruka.

 

For her part, Kiruka only shifted her body back slightly. That didn’t stop Grezna from reaching for a dagger strapped on his thigh.

 

“It is alright, Ushni,” Kiruka said in a similar, double-voice as the other two Urgals—though hers was noticeably softer, “She is not dangerous.”

 

Helia snorted, “ _A foolish statement_.” She then sniffed the air around Kiruka, “ _Although, given your similarities to Peter, I suppose you can definitively say that I am not a danger. At the moment, at least._ ”

 

Grezna huffed, turning to Kiruka, “What does that mean?”

 

Kiruka looked down at her feet, “I, uh, I do not know.”

 

Helia cocked her head to the side, _“Truly, child? You have no idea what I am speaking of?”_

 

“Yigh,” Grezna said in a stern tone, “What is the dragon speaking of?”

 

Kiruka gulped, “…I get these…sensations.”  

 

“What sensations?” Rushez asked.

 

“Why have you not told us about this?” Grezna grunted.

 

Kiruka cradled her elbows, lips pursed in thought, “I don’t…I don’t know what it is, exactly…”

 

“It’s called ‘spider-sense’.”

 

Kiruka turned to Peter, “What?”

 

“Spider-sense,” Peter repeated, “It’s like static,” he paused “Er…It’s like a bee buzzing in the back of your skull, right?” Kiruka nodded, “And the…amount it buzzes changes depending on the situation, right?”

 

“Yes!” Kiruka nodded fervently.

 

Grezna furrowed his brow, staring at Kiruka, “When does this…’spider-sense’?” he turned to Peter, continuing when he nodded, “start buzzing?”

 

Kiruka sighed, “Whenever…whenever anyone is around.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It’s cluing her in to potential threats around her. People, animals, loose floorboards,” Peter looked down at the stone floor, “Uh, sharp rocks in this case.”

 

“People…then, why,” Kiruka stared quizzically at Grezna, who stared back just as, if not more, confused.

 

Peter cleared his throat, “It won’t register anyone you absolutely cannot see as a possible threat—usually family.”

 

Grezna grunted, scratching the base of his left horn, “That is…good to know.”

 

Kiruka leaned forward, “What else can you tell me about…all this?” she asked as she gestured to herself.

 

Peter pursed his lips, “Well, before that, let’s start with you. When did you first get your powers?”

 

Kiruka closed her eyes, leaning back, “It was...a little more than a week ago. I was cleaning clothes down by the river, when I felt something bite my hand—a spider, I realized when I looked down and saw it scamper away. At first, I thought nothing of it, but then that night, I felt weak, and dizzy. I thought the spider was poisonous, and immediately went to Herndall Rushez.”

 

Rushez continued, “She fainted soon after entering my abode. I kept watch over her that night, but other than intense sweating and an inability to keep still, she was fine.

 

“But then morning came, and I…” Kiruka clenched her fists, smiling, “I felt…different. Better than ever.” Her smile quickly faded, “Then, I grabbed a bowl of water, a stone bowl, and crushed it in my hands.”

 

“Yeah, that’ll happen.”

 

Kiruka’s lips twitched, “After that, I stayed here, with Herndall Rushez, so that she could try and figure out what happened to me.”

 

“And from there you figured out you other powers?”

 

Kiruka nodded. She swallowed lightly, pursing her lips, “I-Is it normal to…bend so far?”

 

Peter said nothing, opting instead to enter a one-handed handstand, and then perform the splits. “Varies from spider-person-to-spider-person, but we’re a lot more flexible than the average man—er, Urgal, in your case.”

 

Kiruka nodded, “How strong are we? I know that I can break stone, but adult Kull are capable of that as well…”

 

“I’m not going to pretend to know what that is, but,” Peter pointed to Helia, “I’m pretty sure you can lift her with one hand.”

 

“ _Don’t even think about it!_ ” Helia hissed.

 

Kiruka ignored the outburst, instead staring at her arms in wonder.

 

Finally, she asked, “Wh-Why are we like this?” She looked up, looking Peter square in the eye, “How can this be?”

 

Peter grimaced, drumming his fingers against his thigh, “That’s a loaded question.” He pursed his lips, “…Do your people—the Urgals—believe in gods? Or something of the like?”

 

All three Urgals nodded. “Our people believe in a great many Spirits and Deities; they are all around us, guid—”

 

“I don’t need the cultural lesson,” Peter gently interrupted, “A simple yes or no would have sufficed.”

 

Rushez narrowed her eyes at the disruption but grunted and stayed quiet.

 

Peter coughed into his hand, “Ok…So, there’s this…ancient spider god called the ‘Great Weaver’. It’s in charge of keeping the multiverse together.”

 

“’Mult-iv-rs’?” Grezna slowly repeated, “What is that?”

 

“Yeah, guess you wouldn’t have a word for a concept that grand yet,” Peter muttered.

 

“ _The Great Weaver rules over, what is essentially, multiple territories, making sure that the all remain in balance within themselves and with each other_ ,” Helia said.

 

As Kiruka, Rezna, and Rushez all ‘ahh’d’ in understanding, Peter asked, “Ok, how’d you know that?”

 

“ _We are partners-of-hearts, Peter. Though, admittedly, I have not done as much for you as you have for me, on account of being an infant. But as time passes, we shall help one another grow and change to the best we can be._ ”

 

Peter chuckled awkwardly at her solemn tone, mumbling, “Sure, whatever you say.”

 

Helia huffed, but turned back to the Urgals, _“Was that a sufficient explanation?_ ”

 

“Yes, thank you, Helia,” Rushez bowed her head lightly. She then turned back to Peter, expectant.

 

“Right. So, though the Great Weaver is a very powerful being, it outsources,” at three confused glances, he quickly said, “er, it appoints others to help it out.”

 

Kiruka’s eyes bulged out of her head, “I-I-I-I’ve been chosen to be a god’s champion?!” she squeaked.

 

Peter chuckled, “Sort of. I don’t know all the nuances myself, but you don’t have to worry yourself over anything.”

 

“B-But, what?” Kiruka spluttered, “Surely we must show this…Great Weaver,” at Peter’s nod, she continued, “reverence for choosing us?!”

 

Peter snorted, “If it helps you sleep at night. But it generally doesn’t care what we do.”

 

“Oh, now that’s just not true, Peter.”

 

“Woah!” Bobbi exclaimed, leaping backwards to get away from the voice to her left.

 

Helia immediately stood on all fours, baring her teeth and growling lowly.

 

Grezna too, jumped to his feet, brandishing his weapon.

 

Peter, however, upon recognizing the voice, took a much more relaxed approach. “Ah,” he sighed as he turned, “was wondering when you—the heck?”

 

The _Urgal_ leaning against the stonewall smiled, showing off his pearly white, sharp teeth. He gestured to himself, “Thought I’d do my part and blend in.”

 

“Peter,” Grezna grunted, “You know this…Urgal?”

 

Peter waved his hand lazily, “This…guy…is one of the spider gods I was telling you about. Calls himself Anansi.”

 

Grezna, Rushez and Kiruka all gasped at his words. Anansi, ever the showman, lifted his wrists to his horns. With a quick flick of his wrists, he shot out thin strands of white webbing between the horns—a few deft movements shaped the strands into an intricately designed web—a map of the continent, Peter idly noted. He held out his left hand, and from various cracks in the wall, spiders poured out. They climbed up his body, nestling onto various points of the web.

 

Then, as one, the three dashed forward, stopping a few feet in front of him. They all dropped to their knees, bending forward until their horns (forehead, in Kiruka’s case) touched the ground; after which the trio were belting out a long, hurried string of words that Peter couldn’t catch.

 

Anansi’s smile widened, and he chuckled, “My…it has been a long time since this has happened.” He lifted his head from the deferent Urgals, training his smile on the quiet, though still tense, Helia.

 

Helia’s lips pulled back further, the glow of the fire shining off her many teeth, a low growl rumbling through her throat—Peter could not help but sigh. But still Anansi smiled. In fact, he strode forward.

 

Helia’s growl became a confused grunt, which further devolved into a strangled yelp as Anansi, quick as a flash, knelt down and forcibly opened her snout. “I wonder,” he said as he pressed a finger down on her tongue, “will your fire be formed from your own body, or by magic? Personally, the former would be more interesting,” he added under his breath.

 

Peter, previously impassive to Anansi and Helia’s stare down, grew irritated at Anansi’s blatant ignorance of personal space—further compounded by the shock and discomfort she was transmitting through their bond.

 

“Hey, knock it off!” he said as he grabbed Anansi’s shoulder, pulling him away from Helia. However, he put a bit more force into the action than intended, and Anansi was thrown across the room, hitting the wall with a thud.

 

The three Urgals gasped at Peter’s action against a god, though the god in question merely smirked. Pushing off the wall, he rolled his shoulder, “Awful protective, huh?”

 

Peter furrowed his brow looking down at his hands. That’s twice now he’s lost control of his strength in response to Helia’s distress. He shifted his gaze to the dragon. “ _What is wrong?_ ” she asked, after her initial thankfulness passed.

 

Peter grimaced, “ _That’s the second time today I’ve lost control of my strength. That shouldn’t happen_ ,” he added somewhat forcefully.

 

Helia titled her head down, easily understanding her part in his troubles, “ _Yes…if that were to happen in the heat of battle, it could be disastrous.”_

 

“ _It’s already proven disastrous,_ ” Peter groused.

 

Helia scoffed, “ _You killed a blight upon the world, I’d hardly call that a disaster._ ”

 

Peter’s grimace deepened into a scowl, but before he could retort, Bobbi came up to him, patting his shoulder, “Hey, anything you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

 

Peter exhaled through his nose, “Later, let’s…let’s focus on the god I just threw at a wall.”

 

They turned to face Anansi, smirk still in place. He then turned to the three dumbstruck Urgals, “Now, back onto you,” he said, training his gaze on Kiruka. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he said in an effort to assuage her doubts. He strode forward, bearing down on her. Instinctively, Grezna grabbed her shoulder, pushing her behind him. He soon realized his actions, though, given the way his eyes widened and slight tremble in his arms as he gazed upon Anansi.

 

The god’s smirk softened, “…I don’t know how your gods act, but rest assured I’m not going to just attack you or your daughter because of paternal instinct.” He gestured to Kiruka, cocking his brow. After a moment, Grezna stepped aside, gently pushing his child ahead.

 

Kiruka, for her part, kept her eyes firmly planted on her feet, shivering lightly. At least, until Anansi grabbed her chin, slowly tilting her head up; then, she stilled.

 

Anansi hummed as he stared into her eyes, eventually saying, “I see…” He smiled, letting go of her chin and gently patting her cheek, “Yes, you’ll do nicely.”

 

“W-What do you mean?”

 

Anansi stepped back, “Nothing, just…approving of my compatriot’s choice.” He sighed, “I must admit, this situation is most unusual; I tend not to make personal visits.”

 

Kiruka gulped down her anxiety, “Why not?”

 

Anansi shrugged, “Me and my peers usually leave our Avatars to their own devices. Live and let live. But,” he shifted his gaze to Grezna, Rushez, then back to Kiruka, “You people are just…New!” Kiruka jumped at his shout, “Never before have I seen an Urgal. Dwarves, Elves, Humans; all rote beings. But you,” he gestured excitedly at the trio, “are unique—not wholly unique, mind you, but unique enough to break through just a bit of the monotony us gods live with.”

 

“As such, we want to make things a bit smoother for you. Which brings us to him,” he said, turning to point at Peter.

 

Peter frowned, “What about me?”

 

“Well,” Anansi drawled, “You are the ‘greatest of them all’, are you not?”

 

“That was only because I kicked Morlun’s butt twice.”

 

 “Oh,” Anansi clicked his tongue, “You give yourself too little credit! But I digress. Remember how I said we had a couple things we’d like you to accomplish while you’re here?” Peter hesitantly nodded, “Well, you’re second task is to teach her,” he gestured grandly towards Kiruka, “What it means to be a Spider—in this case, Spider-Girl. Or, Spider-Woman, perhaps Spider-Urgal?” He frowned at Kiruka, “Eh, you can decide what you want to call yourself at a later date.”

 

Peter hummed, “…Sure, whatever. Showing a newbie the ropes is better than futzing around in the wilderness for weeks on end.”

 

Bobbi mumbled something indecipherable, but Anansi continued by clapping his hands together, “Great! My dear,” he directed at Kiruka once more, “I’d listen to what he has to say; you really won’t find a better teacher.”

 

“Well, I believe I’ve said all that I wish to say.” He bowed dramatically, jostling the spiders attached to his horns, “I bid you all, farewell.” He straightened, winking at the Urgals, humans, and dragon. Then, he vanished in the blink of an eye.

 

Kiruka, Grezna and Rushez gasped, and even Bobbi jerked back at the sudden ability. Helia only remained calm because Peter himself was calm. Peter, for his part, scoffed, muttering about how unfair it was that he never gained to ability to turn invisible at will (which then devolved into further mutterings about all the other Spider-People with cooler powers than his).

 

After a moment of stunned silence, Rushez coughed into her hand, “Well…that was certainly an…experience. Still,” she turned to Kiruka, “Your path is clear, child. You must travel with Peter and learn all you can from him.”

 

Kiruka nodded. She walked closer to Peter, stopping just a few feet in front of him. Dropping down to her knees, she bowed deeply, “I pray that I will be an able student, Rajhot.”

 

Peter smiled uneasily, “Uh, sorry, that last word didn’t translate. And uh, you don’t have to bow.”

 

Kiruka rose to a kneeling position, a small blush on her face. “It, um, it’s roots are ‘mentor’ and ‘experienced’.”

 

“Hmm,” Peter rubbed his jawline, “‘Experienced Mentor’…I can work with that.”

 

Bobbi snorted, shoving his leg with her foot, “Don’t get a swelled head about it Peter.”

 

“Hey, it won’t be too bad. I was a teacher, you know.”

 

Helia perked up, “ _Oh? You’ve taught young ones before?_ ”

 

Peter frowned, “Yeah. Do you not know that?”

 

Helia shook her head, “ _I did not. I have no more insight into your past than you do mine.”_

 

Peter chuckled, “No offense, but what past could you possibly have? You were in an egg until a month ago.”

 

“ _Incubating dragons, unlike other creatures,_ ” she added somewhat smugly, _“are aware of our surroundings even when incubating.”_

 

Bobbi propped her head on her hands, “All right then, where were you before you were hatched?”

 

Helia grunted, scratching her neck, “ _I…do not know,_ ” there were a few or chuckles, “ _all I know is that it was warm, dark, and that I was there for a long time until, well, your gods found me, I suppose._ ”

 

Peter sighed, “Well, wherever you were, you’re stuck with us now.”

 

Helia purred, shifting forward and resting her head on Peter’s lap, “ _A fair trade, all things considered._ ”

 

Peter smiled, scratching her beneath one of her horns.

 

He then looked up at the Urgals, “Well, guess we’ll be heading East in a couple days,” his expression soured, “to join the rebels.”

 

“Actually,” Rushez interrupted, “Your path shall lead you North.” At Peter, Bobbi, and Kiruka’s questioning brows, she said, “To the elves.”

 

Kiruka frowned, and Bobbi said, “So, you’ve got elves too, huh?”

 

“Think they hate iron like those elves that hate Tony?”

 

“Maybe?” She suddenly snapped her fingers, fully facing Peter “Hey, you ever seen their queen?”

 

“No, but I’ve heard that she had a thing with Hercules for a while.”

 

“Yeah, lucky her.”

 

“Eh, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

 

“What? Tall, handsome, a body that looks like it was chiseled out of marble?”

 

“Hairy?” Peter countered.

 

Bobbi set her mouth into a thin line, “Yeah…that might be a deal breaker.”

 

The duo broke into laughter, further confusing their already befuddled audience.

 

“Dam Rushez,” Kiruka said as the laughter subsided, “Must we go north? Surely, I can learn all I can here?”

 

Rushez nodded, “That may be so, but you are not the only one with things to learn. Peter and Helia are _Rukacharga_ ,” she stressed, “And the Elves are the only ones capable of helping them reach their full potential. This is an unavoidable fact.”

 

Kiruka scowled lightly, rising to her feet. She bowed, muttering about how she would gather her things, and left.

 

Peter stared after the young woman, “Uh, what’s the problem?”

 

Rushez sighed heavily, “Our people and the Elves do not have the best relationship. Less caustic then with Humans and even the Dwarves, but nothing positive.”

 

Helia frowned, _“Well, what is the matter with these Elves?”_

 

Grezna snorted, “You will see for yourself soon enough.”

 

“Cryptic.”  Peter coyly stated. 

 

**Line Break**

 

Peter lay in the bed—a bunch of furs stacked on top of each other, sure, but the most comfortable thing he’d slept on in weeks—Rushez had provided for him. As he stared up at the cold stone ceiling, he briefly considered going inside to the room that came with the bed; but, Helia was too large to share the room with them, so he stayed outside.

 

He’d set aside the fur of some large animal for Helia to lay on, just to his left. But the dragon did not want to rest yet. Instead, she stood on all fours, maw open, exhaling harshly, wings flexing back and forth, tail sticking out straight behind her like a needle.

 

“Uhh…got a hairball stuck in your throat?”

 

Helia stopped, levelling Peter a deadpan stare, “ _I do not have hair, Peter_.”

 

Peter shrugged, “ _Scale_ ball, then.” He sat up, staring on as Helia returned to her bizarre breathing. Then, it struck him. “You’re trying to make fire, aren’t you?”

 

Helia sighed, falling into a lax stance, “ _Trying and failing,_ ” she groused.

 

Peter smiled, “Well, you’re only, what, a month old? If anything, you haven’t developed enough to breath fire.”

 

“ _But if it is magic, it should come out through my will alone.”_ She said determinedly.

 

Peter furrowed his brow, “So, it is magic?”

 

Helia sat down, staring down at her front paws, “ _I cannot say…I know my kind can create fire; the memory is embedded in my soul. I can feel the fire in my belly, just waiting to be released._ ”

 

Peter stood, walking over to Helia, “Was that a metaphor?”

 

Helia hang her head low, wings and tail drooping slightly, “ _I cannot say_ ,” she mumbled wearily.

 

“Well, let’s check,” he said, squatting down beside her.

 

Helia turned, “ _What?”_

 

“Let’s check,” Peter repeated, slowly.

 

Helia’s tail twitched at his playful tone; nonetheless, she said, “ _Very, well, how?”_

 

“Okay,” Peter lifted his hands, hovering over her neck, “Lift your head up, towards the ceiling.” She did so, flinching as he pressed his fingers into her neck. Noticing this, he asked, “Does that hurt?”

 

“ _No,_ ” she replied, “ _Just unexpected.”_

 

Peter nodded and prodded along her neck a couple more times. He frowned, “Well, I can’t feel any glands along your neck. So that’s out,” he hopped back a step, “Open your mouth for me, and stick out your tongue as far as you can.”

 

Helia did so, tongue extending past her jaw and ending about a quarter down her neck. Peter leaned in closer, humming and flipping her tongue over, then back, examining it thoroughly.

 

Helia sniffed, “ _What are you doing?”_

 

Peter blinked, letting the appendage flop back down, “Sorry, just, never noticed how barbed that thing is.”

 

Helia, jaw still wide, stared blankly at him, “ _How else could I strip an animal clean in a matter of minutes?”_

 

Peter didn’t answer the question, instead looking directly at her mouth. Prying open her jaw a bit more, he leaned in, “I think…I found something.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

Peter leaned back, letting her close her jaw (and move it back and forth to relieve a bit of the stiffness that had set in). “There’s four pairs of holes in the back of your throat, around here,” he said, pressing where her jaw connects to her neck. “They’re kind of small now, smaller than my pinky nail, so I can only assume that they’ll get larger as you grow. Course, that just raises the question of where in your body the fire is made, and how? I mean, there are dozens of chemical reactions that can result in fire, and obviously the, er, flesh-muzzles are meant to direct that—and since they’re pretty far in there, it’s safe to say your mouth is pretty fireproof,” Peter’s voice slowly drifted off, until he was just softly mumbling to himself.

 

“ _Peter,_ ” Helia said with a smile, poking his shoulder with her snout, “ _Peter, are you there?”_

 

Peter jolted back, “Oh, uh, sorry, Helia. I was just thinking about how your fire breath would work.”

 

“ _I see…”_ she trailed off. “ _Care to explain your thoughts?”_

 

Peter smiled softly, “I could, but do you really want to listen to me go on and on about my hypotheses?”

 

She sat down, settling her deceptively intelligent gaze on Peter. Then, her lips pulled back into a smile—glistening white and toothy it may have been. She said, _“I can think of no better way to spend the time_.”

 

Peter snorted, “Just wait till I figure out how to make web-shooters,” he mumbled under his breath.

 

“ _What?”_

 

Peter shook his head, “Never mind.” He sat down from his squat, splaying his legs out. He held his hands out, “Okay,” he began, “so, there are a lot of ways you can make fire.”

 

 

**A/N: I’m just pulling the ‘flesh-muzzles’ thing out of my ass (mostly, at any rate. I mean, it’s cannon that smoke will filter out a dragon’s mouth to signify that they are almost mature enough to breath fire—around four months, I think—so it has to come from somewhere in the body). Also, here’s a headcannon for you all: bound Dragon’s sound similar to (not exactly like) an important figure (or figures) in their Rider’s life, whether or not either of them is conscious of the fact. For example, I believe that Saphira sounds like a mix of Selena (Eragon’s mother) and Marian (his aunt), that Thorn sounds like Tornac (Murtagh’s teacher), and Fírnen sounds like Fäolin (Arya’s closest friend/maybe lover). I don’t know enough about Oromis to say who Glaedr sounds like, or the other Eldunarí for that matter, and I don’t think Shurikan is capable of thought. How does that all work? _M_ a _g_ i _c_ [jazz hands]. Or, maybe, the freshly hatched Dragons, in even less control of their magical faculties compared to grown Dragons, surreptitiously scan their Rider’s mind and form a ‘voice’ that would make the bonding process easier. Who knows? Anyway, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

First Lesson

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

"Hmm, yeah, I'd call those flesh-muzzles," Bobbi said, pulling back from Helia's open maw

Helia scoffed,  _"Can neither of you come up with something more dignified?_ "

Peter frowned, leaning back into his palms, "You didn't have a problem with it last night."

She rolled her eyes, " _Perhaps not, but now that I've had time to sleep on it, I've decided that it's far too crass a name for a dragon's organ."_

Bobbi huffed, a smirk playing on her lips, "You have a better name?"

"… _Give me a moment_." She titled her head, only to flinch, turning around and baring her teeth at the elderly Urgal woman measuring along her back.

The four elderly women froze, faces stricken with fear.

Peter leaned forward, grabbing the top of his dragon's snout and pulling her away, "Stop that," he said, "I'm sure they didn't mean it."

Helia frowned, sighing. She turned back around, gesturing for the women to continue. Which they did, after a moment.

Bobbi narrowed her eyes as the women worked, "You know, it's nice of them to offer to make a saddle for you but considering your exponential growth rate it won't fit for too long."

"It will grow along with her."

Bobbi and Peter turned around, waving to Rushez as she walked forward.

Behind them, the Urgal women started speaking in their native tongue, confusing Peter. How could Rushez be speaking to them without that language spell? But then she grasped stone necklace around her neck, muttered something, and then spoke aloud in her native tongue.

Bobbi hummed, "That for Kiruka?"

Rushez grunted, touching her necklace and muttering another word, "Could you repeat that?" Bobbi repeated the question. "Oh, yes. I've been working on it for the past week. I'd suspected that she would need to leave our tribe to learn how to harness her new abilities," she smiled, "I'm just glad that she's found one like her to guide her on her path."

Peter chuckled uneasily, nervous at the prospect of teaching the young girl. Sure, he'd taught high school science once upon a time—till his life got in the way, at least—and he did help out the Avengers and X-Men with their 'trouble makers' once or twice. But, he never really taught anyone how to use their powers. Not even Miles, despite popular belief. Help him with gear? Sure. Back him up when they crossed paths? Of course. But he didn't really teach the kid anything.

He sunk his head into his hands. It was hard enough coming to terms with that fact that he had to raise a dragon. Add a teenager with superpowers in the mix?

He sighed heavily; when this whole…thing finally ended, he might just take up Kaine's offer and get plastered on Long Island Sound.

"Hey," a pair of fingers snapped in front of him, jolting Peter back, "Earth to Parker!" Bobbi said, "You okay?"

Peter shook his head, "Yeah, yeah I'm cool. Really."

" _You don't look 'cool',_ " Helia added worryingly.

"Girls, I'm fine."

Bobbi narrowed her eyes, "Well…while you were zoning out, Rushez was explaining why it would grow along with her. Something to do with Kull."

Peter remembered the term and was curious himself. As was Helia, given the way her head was leaned in to listen in on the conversation.

Rushez hummed, lifting her head and grabbing her necklace again. She barked out something—after saying the first word from before—and then turned back to the humans and dragon—again, repeating that second word. "Here they come."

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned, raising an eyebrow at the sight of an Urgal family coming closer. It looked like a mother and her two kids—one older, one younger. Both boys stood slightly behind their mother, and even she looked at the three of them with trepidation.

Rushez pointed at the woman, "This is Yaraz," then at the older boy, "her son Okriz," then the younger, "and his twin brother, Uruth."

…Wait, what?

Peter's eyes widened after a moment, and he whirled around, "Come again?!" he and Bobbi exclaimed together.

Rushez chuckled at their outburst, "It's true! They were born…a little more than four dozen moons ago."

Bobbi stared at the older, taller, bulkier twin, who hid further behind his mother. "There's no way these two are twins—not even fraternal."

"Heh, I assisted with their birth. Believe me, they are twins."

"But…how?" Bobbi furrowed her eyebrows, clasping her hands on her chin.

Rushez shrugged, signaling Yaraz and her children that they were free to go. "Some would say that the blood of the Old God's flow strongly in them. Others believe that they are born in order to avert potential catastrophes," she dropped her chin in her hands, "All I know is that they are

"He's…he's going to keep growing?"

Rushez nodded, "In the end, at the very least, he shall be taller and stockier than Grezna."

" _I see,"_  Helia hummed,  _"Instead of constantly making new clothes for Kull, you just enchant it to grow with them."_

Rushez nodded, "It's not perfect. And the clothing itself is still subject to disrepair. But as you said, it's easier than making new clothes every other week."

Bobbi rubbed her temples, "So…why isn't this preferred?" she mumbled.

"Hmm?" Rushez grunted.

"I mean, why aren't there more 'Kull'? Why isn't every Urgal a Kull?"

"That's a question our people have been asking for a long time."

Bobbi pursed her lips, "Okay…Are there any disadvantages to an Urgal being a Kull as opposed to a regular Urgal?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I just…want to try and figure this out, logically."

Rushez hummed deeply, sitting down beside them, "…They sink faster in water, but Urgals are not very good swimmers anyway. Nor can they climb trees, for the branches are likely to break under their weight. They also require more food, which can be tough during famines."

"Are they sterile?"

Rushez scoffed, "No."

"Do Kull parents have more Kull kids."

"No, Kull are born at random."

Peter could hear the cogs grinding in Bobbi's head—probably overheating, given the ways her eyes twitched—trying to make sense of the biological oddity. A thought flashed in his own head, "Are more Kull born when you have a lot of food and stability?"

Rushez laughed heartily at that, "Urgal like is never stable. But, again, they are born at random. There are years where half of the children born in a tribe grow to be Kull, and other years where no Kull are born at all." She gazed appreciatively at Bobbi, "It's nice that you have an interest in my people, but we've spent many generations trying to understand the mystery of 'Kull'." She shrugged, "We gave up a while ago."

Bobbi sighed heavily, "Alright. I'll just chalk it up to another strange thing about this place."

Rushez grinned, nodding slowly.

" _How is Kiruka?_  Helia suddenly asked. _"Is she mentally prepared to embark on our journey?_ "

Rushez sighed, "She…is no longer frustrated at the thought of entering the Elves' domain. But it would seem that the scope of this journey is now getting to her." She huffed, "Grezna has informed me that she's spent a great deal of time studying their namna."

"Their what?" Peter asked.

"Namna," Rushez repeated, "Suppose that's another word that doesn't directly translate," she muttered beneath her breath. She then said, "It's a tapestry that details the history of a family."

" _As in, the current husband, wife, and children, or going back a few generations?"_

"The entire family lineage," Rushez elaborated.

Peter blinked, "That…must get massive after a couple generations."

Rushez shrugged, "It folds up."

Just then, the elderly women around Helia said something in their native tongue. Grabbing her necklace, Rushez responded in kind, bowing her head as they left. She then turned to Peter and Helia, "They've collected all the necessary measurements. They should have a saddle in a few hours."

Helia blinked, " _Isn't that a little soon? I mean,_ " she sheepishly averted her gaze, " _I don't want them to work themselves too hard on my behalf._ "

"Eh, it's fine," Rushez looked down at the floor, "It's not like they have much to do with a little more than half the able-bodied men off to join the Varden."

Peter gulped, rubbing his elbows awkwardly, "Um…why are you guys fighting in the war?" At her perplexed gaze, he elaborated, "It's just…your people don't seem to care much about Elves and Humans, so why get in the middle of them?"

Rushez huffed, a scowl forming on her face, "Galbatorix promised our people safety and territory in exchange for our services. Instead, he allowed an abomination to twist their minds, leading them all to their deaths at the hands of the Varden and their Rider."

Peter gulped, "You, uh, you lose anyone important to you?"

Rushez smiled grimly, "No, my path was not one of motherhood. But to get back on topic: in response to his crimes, warriors from the Bolvek tribe went around recruiting as many men as we could spare."

"What are the odds that we'll meet up with any of them?" Bobbi asked.

"During your journey? Very low." Rushez said, "But I imagine once you're done with the elves you'll be sent off to the Varden. You'll probably meet someone there." She lifted her head up, looking around, "…Come," she eventually said, "I'll give you some lunch. You'll leave from the main entrance once the saddle is ready."

**Line Break**

Peter sat back against a cave wall, Bobbi resting her head on his knees.

"How bad do you think these Elves are?" she suddenly asked. She then elaborated, "I mean, there's got to be some reason these people don't like them."

Peter shrugged, "My years of experience with WoW and DnD are telling me that they're going to be a bunch of prissy, know-it-all jerks."

"You play DnD?" Bobbi asked, somewhat amazed. "When do you have the time to hang in in a basement?"

"Online," Peter clarified, "Got a nice group set-up with Murdock, Rand, and the Cages."

Bobbi shot up, staring incredulously at him, " _Daredevil_  plays with you guys?"

Hearing the unasked question, Peter chuckled, "It helps that it's almost entirely vocal. And he has a dice generator on his phone. He's actually a very good DM."

"Sure, sure," Bobbi lay back down, "I just thought he was, I don't, cooler than that."

"Implying that Luke Cage isn't cool?"

"Silver. Tiara." Bobbi enunciated.

Peter guffawed, and Bobbi followed soon after.

" _Ah, what a lovely sound to wake up to_."

"Oh, sorry Helia."

" _It's no matter,_ " she said to Bobbi, " _We're going to have guests soon, anyway._ "

Before Peter could ask what she meant there was a soft buzz in the back of his skull.

Entering the cave, well, cave within a cave, first was Kiruka, demonstrating her newfound strength by easily holding Helia's new saddle overhead—which looked suitably thick, made out of brown leather with white fur around the bridle and unfamiliar symbols written all along it—to the astonishment of her father, Rushez, and the four elderly women trailing behind her.

Stopping a few feet in front of them, she dropped the saddle with a quiet thud.

That shook the rest of the Urgals out of their reverie, the four elderly women immediately rushing forward and berating her in their native tongue.

Kiruka, previously smiling widely, flinched, lips shifting into a guilty frown. She bowed her head, muttering something Peter couldn't catch—nor understand.

Grezna shook his head, stepping away from the group. He nodded at Peter and Helia, grunting something in…Urgalese?

Peter averted his eyes, somewhat embarrassed that he hadn't bothered to ask what their language was called.

"He's asking if you two are ready for the saddle," Rushez said from beside him.

Peter looked over at Helia, who shrugged, standing up on all fours.

Bobbi got up, allowing Peter to walk over and grab the saddle himself. Hefting it on one shoulder, he moved over Helia, staring at her. "…I have no idea what to do."

Grezna said something, which Rushez translated to, "Neither do we, but it can't be any harder than saddling a horse."

Heli sneered, " _You did not just compare me to a horse!"_

"We're putting a saddle on you," Bobbi deadpanned.

Helia sniffed, turning her head up, but said nothing.

Peter scoffed, "Just straighten your back."

Helia huffed but complied. She snarled when Peter all but dropped the saddle on her, " _Watch it!"_

Peter gulped, petting her neck, "Sorry, sorry," he knelt down, grabbing some straps and buckles, "…What now?"

"Let me," Grezna, said in English. Peter turned, eyeing the charmed necklace around his neck. Grezna paused, however, staring at Helia, "So long as it's alright with you?"

"… _Go ahead,_ " she eventually groused.

Thus, Grezna showed Peter how to attach and loosen Helia's saddle. It took a couple tries to get everything right—accidently pinching Helia's ribs once or twice after buckling the wrong set of loops—but he eventually got it down pat.

Helia snaked her head around, humming appreciatively, " _What do these symbols mean?_ "

"They're meant to grant protection and strength in battle."

Helia nodded, spreading her wings as far as they could. She flapped them a couple times, floating up into the air grinning widely, " _It's very light. Are you sure you've never done this before?"_

Grezna shook his head, "No, no Urgal has ever made a saddle for a dragon before."

" _Well, for your first time, it's amazing,"_ she bowed at the elderly women, " _I'll be proud to wear this to battle."_

Peter found himself a little nervous at her eager tone, but set that aside, turning to Kiruka and Grezna. "Is she ready to go?"

Before Grezna could translate, Kiruka's face morphed into a stony frown, but she nodded all the same.

**Line Break**

Peter smiled as Helia flew overhead, roaring with joy. It was good to get her in the open air again.

To his left, Kiruka flinched, "I don't know if I'll ever get used to that."

"Eh," Bobbi shrugged, "you learn to live with it."

"Speaking of," Peter mumbled. He turned his gaze skyward, focusing on his and Helia's bond, " _Hey, Helia, calm down a second."_

Helia—in the middle of a somersault—froze, dropping down slightly before floating in place, " _Ah! Finally, ready to ride me?"_

" _Helia, we've been over this."_

" _But I have a saddle, with this lovely seat!"_

" _You're still too small."_

She scoffed, " _I'm strong enough to carry you!"_

" _Sure, but I don't think it'll be comfortable."_

" _Oh, come on! Where's your sense of adventure?!"_

" _Right next to my common sense. They get along swimmingly."_

She grumbled something he couldn't catch, allowing Peter to refocus. " _Anyway, I need you to grab mine and Kiruka's stuff."_

" _No,"_  she said childishly.

" _Helia…"_

" _No,"_ she repeated,  _"I refuse to be used as a pack mule."_

" _But you've got a saddle, with all those lovely straps"_  Peter teased.

He could hear—physically, not just mentally—her hiss at his statement. He let the joking mood die a bit, " _Seriously, though, I want to talk with Kiruka for a bit._ "

She huffed, but still said, " _Fine,_ " swooping down and landing before them.

Peter turned to Kiruka, "Hand over your stuff, we're going on a walk. Well, a different walk."

She stared at him quizzically, but nonetheless removed the pack on her shoulders. She then jerked her head to the side, obviously sensing, and hearing, Helia's descent.

Peter moved closer to Helia, who was pointedly ignoring him, but otherwise allowed him to secure the packs on her saddle. As Bobbi stepped closer, he said, "Move on ahead, I'm going to start showing Kiruka the ropes."

Bobbi grunted, "Okay. I'm still heading north, so try not to get lost."

"I doubt I'll be able to lose track of you with the dragon flying overhead."

Helia grumbled something beneath her breath.

Bobbi nodded, patting his shoulder, "Have fun," she said.

Peter smiled, turning to walk back over to Kiruka, who was fidgeting in place.

He gestured to his right, "Let's get going."

They walked for quite a bit, Kiruka spending the time between nervously glancing at Peter and admiring their surroundings. Peter did much the same—the observing bit, not nervously staring at himself—but with a more calculating gaze.

Finally, he stopped in front of a tall, wide tree, sidestepping to avoid Kiruka slamming into his back, and reaching out to steady her when she stumbled, trying to avoid him.

She sent him a nervous grimace, which he met with an understanding smile. After making sure she was alright, he gestured to the tree. "We're going to start off easy. Getting to the top of this tree."

Kiruka blinked, "Um…okay," and walked forward. She placed her hands on the tree, lifting herself up and placing her feet on the tree.

She took a couple 'steps' up before Peter said, "Er, I think I misspoke."

Kiruka, leaned over, one arm dangling in the air as she stared questioningly at Peter. He elaborated, "For people, Spider-People, like us, climbing…anything, really, involves a bit more…" he leapt into the air—fifteen feet, easily—somersaulting before he grabbed a branch. He spun on it twice, vaulting off and landing one another branch, crouching down to smile at Kiruka, "Flair."

If she was nervous before, now she looked terrified. Briefly, Peter was thankful—and perplexed—that, despite the differences between Humans and Urgals, they at least shared similar facial expressions. However, when she stayed rooted in place, he hopped off the branch, landing just above her on the tree trunk.

He gestured above them, "Don't try and copy me, I've been doing this for years. You can get fancy after you've had practice; but you still need to take that first, step. Well, leap."

Kiruka gulped, staring up at the branches above. Her dark, beady eyes flitted between multiple branches, until she finally seemed to settle on a branch attached to a separate tree on their right.

Peter glanced at the branch, and he didn't need his spider-sense to tell him that it wouldn't hold. Kiruka, based on the way her face scrunched up and how she looked around, sensed it too; but that didn't stop her from tensing her arms and legs, shooting off the trunk.

Before she'd even made it halfway, Peter was in motion, leaping forward and standing on a branch below Kiruka's. She stared down at him, face scrunched up in a frown. Which quickly morphed into panic as the branch she landed on easily broke with a loud  _CRUNCH_.

"WAAH!" she cried, falling backwards.

Peter quickly shot his arms out, grabbing her by her ankles. After she stopped screaming, he swung his arms around, allowing her to stick to the trunk of the tree.

"Did you feel your spider-sense buzz before you jumped?" he asked, only to pause as she held up her hand. It was then that he noticed that her necklace—their only means of communication, was in her closed hand, having slipped off during the fall.

After she put it on, he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Okay, we're going to need to work on that language barrier."

Kiruka nodded, "Yes," then looked down, turning the pendant over in her hands, "It seems that Dam Rushez failed to consider…acrobatics…when she enchanted this."

Peter nodded, eyeing the necklace. He hummed in thought as he got a better look at the leather strap holding it together. He gestured at it, "Do you mind?"

"Uh, sure," Kiruka said, holding the necklace out for him to grab.

Peter did so, carefully pulling it off her. Thankfully, the hole that the leather looped through was big enough to make a couple more passes. Peter did so, turning the necklace into a choker.

He loosened it, handing it to Kiruka. She slipped it one, tightening it until it was comfortable.

"Better?"

She shrugged, "We'll see."

Peter nodded, "Okay. So, what I was asking, before," he gestured to her neck, "this, is whether or not you felt your spider-sense buzz before you jumped?"

She nodded, "Yes. I thought there was something nearby, but you weren't acting weird so I," she blushed, "ignored it."

"That's fine," Peter assured her, "You'll learn to trust it. But don't become overly reliant on it, learned that the hard way," he muttered beneath his breath.

"Hmm?"

He shook his head, "Long story. Let's focus on getting to the top of that tree," he pointed to the tree they were originally on.

Kiruka nodded, looking up. Again, her eyes flitted from branch to branch, and once again, her face scrunched up in confusion. She turned to Peter, "Do you…sense that?"

Peter looked around, easily pinpointing the dangerous branch. He nodded, "Yeah. Ignore it for now."

Kiruka took a deep breath, searching for another branch. She rapidly clenched and unclenched her fists, finally settling on a branch about twenty feet overhead.

She shifted nervously as she composed herself. A minute passed.

Peter hummed, staring up at the sky, "Anytime now," he murmured.

That galvanized her, given the short squeak she let out. Within seconds, she leapt up ten feet in the air, latching onto her chosen branch with both hands, hanging in the air.

Peter bounded up after her, hooking his knees on a branch just below her, smiling as he hung perpendicular to the branch, "There you go! Got another one in you?"

Kiruka looked down, smiling nervously, but smiling all the same. She pulled herself up, and set about searching for another landing point, taking far less time to do so than the first time around.

She launched upwards, landing on her feet this time, giggling as she found her balance.

By her fifth jump, she was smiling brightly, whooping with joy as she let her instincts take hold and guide her upwards.

Peter could not help but join her in her glee.

**A/N: Looking back, this is probably the most 'WTF, why?' story I've ever written. There's like, zero connection between the two fandoms. But I think I can manage. Be sure to leave a review.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

Small Leaps

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

Kiruka hunched over on a branch, breathing heavily, a wide smile splitting her face. This was all so…so…amazing!

She then looked down, her self-awe giving way to fear. Stars above, since when were trees so  _tall_!

She stared blankly for another moment, before letting out a quiet squeak, moving over and hugging the tree trunk. Dear ancestors, whatever possessed her to do this?!

"Um…you alright?"

Ah, that's right. Her human Rajhot, who had all the same abilities as her, if not more. Shakily, she lifted her head, staring up at his upside-down face. She gulped, "I-I-I-I-I—"

"You looked down, didn't you?"

She nodded.

"You've been listening to your spider-sense, right?" She nodded hesitantly; it took a bit to get used to—the consistent buzzing of multiple bees in the back of her skull—but she felt she had a decent enough grasp on the ability. "Then," Peter said, dropping down to sit on a branch opposite her, "that's really all there is to it." He bent his head down, staring at the forest floor, "Plus, even if you were to, you know, fall," if he heard the tree trunk crack under her grip, he didn't say, "you'd live. Might bruise a rib or two, but alive all the same."

Kiruka whimpered, "How can you possibly know that?"

Her mentor shrugged, "I've fallen from greater heights and lived." He ignored her strangled gasp, craning his head up, "…C'mon, we're almost at the top."

Kiruka stayed rooted in place. After five minutes, Peter came back. He stared at her, clicking his tongue, "Okay." He hopped down beside her, crouching to be level with her, "Follow my hand," he said, holding his right arm out. Kiruka did so, watching as he gestured from branch to branch. It took a moment for her to realize that he was laying out a path for her to follow.

Eventually, she nodded, slowly releasing her death grip on the tree.

"Now, remember," Peter said over her shoulder, "If you ever feel like you can't make a jump, look around, and trust your spider-sense."

Kiruka nodded, only to pause, "Wait—does that mean—" but Peter was already on his way up.

Kiruka sighed, staring up at the path Peter laid out for her.

**Line Break**

Peter tapped his fingers against his knees, briefly glancing down as Kiruka leapt up to join him on the topmost branch of the…redwood? Did the people here classify them as 'redwoods'? Questions for later.

Tentatively, his student—man, that was weird—sat beside him. He smiled as she leaned forward, gasping in awe, "By the stars…is that my home?!" she exclaimed, pointing at a mountain.

Peter answered honestly, "I have absolutely no idea."

She deflated slightly, only to perk up once more, "I see Helia!"

Peter followed her line of sight, nodding along with her exclamation. He sent Helia a quick mental 'hello', only to jerk back as she rebuffed him.

He tried again, only for her to—for lack of a better term—push him away from her mind.

"Peter," Kiruka suddenly said, "What's wrong?"

Peter returned to reality, alarmed that he was actually leaning back on the branch. Did mental 'actions' translate to physical actions? Didn't happen with Xavier, or Emma, or Hope. Or it did, and they just trained for it? Ah, he really should have paid more attention to how telepaths function. And why did he feel nauseous?

"Peter are you okay?" Kiruka repeated.

He shook his head, returning to the present, "Uh, ye-yeah," he coughed into his hands, "peachy. What about you?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Thankfully, Kiruka answered with, "Yes." She looked down, staring at her hands, "Your advice was helpful, truly."

"Ah," Peter clicked his tongue, "That was mostly you. Like I said, instincts." He really wasn't lying or trying to be humble. A great deal of their powers was hardwired into their reflexes. Sure, some of the finer things—fancy tricks in the air, combat, social interactions—required some trial-and-error, but basic movement? Easy as pie.

"Now then," he said, fully facing Kiruka, "let's talk about your—our—powers." Kiruka nodded, pressing her fingers together. Peter gestured towards her, "Got a question?"

She pursed her lips, "So…exactly how strong are we? I know you said that I could lift Helia—and her saddle felt practically weightless—but what's the…upper limit?"

Peter sighed, propping his chin in his hands, "That's an excellent question." He thought for a moment, "…If you aren't careful, you can punch a hole in someone's skull." She squeaked, staring fearfully at her hands. Peter gently laid a hand on her shoulder, "Calm down. The very first thing I'm going to teach you is how to control your strength. If you're anything like me, you'll pick it up quickly."

Kiruka blushed at his words, then asked, "How, how did you get your powers?"

Peter grunted, "Same as you…mostly."

"'Mostly'?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, "It's…complicated. You wouldn't happen to know what the word 'radioactive' means, do you? No, of course not," he added at her blank stare. He slowly rubbed his hands, "Well, I guess I can give you some science lessons as well, down the line."

Kiruka titled her head at him, and for a split-second Peter was legitimately worried that she was going to ask, 'what's science?' Thankfully, she just winced and said, "Do we have too?"

Peter chuckled, "Just a bit. It'll actually help you learn how to better use your abilities."

Kiruka huffed, turning away from him, "If you say so."

Peter hummed, staring forward, eyeing the horizon. "I'm going to be teaching a lot, about how to use your powers  _responsibly_." She must've heard the emphasis he put on the word, given the puzzled stare she sent his way.

Peter stared down at his legs, "'With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility'. It's something of a family motto."

"What's a 'motto'?"

Peter stilled. Did she really just…? "…Nothing," he stifled a laugh, "what's a motto with you?" He burst out laughing, no longer able to hold it in. Eventually, he stopped laughing. As he wiped tears from his eyes, he sucked in a deep, steadying breath. "Sorry, sorry. It's just," he snorted, "You completely set me up for that." At her blank stare, he blushed, coughing into his hands, "A, uh, 'motto' is a, uh, phrase that signifies a belief a group of people—usually families—share."

Kiruka 'ah'd' in understanding, nodding her head, "My family has a 'motto' as well." She cleared her throat, "'Guard your mouth."

Peter stared at her, "That's it?"

She huffed, crossing her arms and turning away from him, "Sorry that my ancestor's dying words aren't up to your standards."

Peter's eyes widened, and he frantically waved his hands, "Woah, hey! I didn't mean—" only to pause as her shoulders started to shake. "Oh, ok then," he smiled, "fair enough."

She continued to giggle, "It's fine. My cousin, Rykel, said the same thing years ago." She then blanched, "Although, Uncle did not take it as kindly."

In an effort to change the subject, Peter asked, "What does it mean?"

Kiruka grunted, "Well, there's the obvious meaning."

"And the unobvious one?"

Her mood darkened, "It's a warning against dealing with elves."

Peter stayed silent, letting the topic die—it was a bit too soon to delve into the  _really_  personal things.

Eventually, Kiruka sighed, "What about you? What does 'With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility' mean?"

Peter shrugged, "If you have the chance—and the capability—to do good, you have to."

"You 'have' to?"

Peter sighed, "…Yes." Fortunately, Kiruka deiced to leave it at that.

Just then, Helia roared in the distance. Kiruka leaned forward, glancing fearfully at Peter, "Is that bad?"

Peter tried to connect with Helia, but was met with the same wall, "I don't think so. But we should get moving." With that said, he leapt down.

**Line Break**

Bobbi jumped back as Helia all but dropped on her, "Geez! Watch it, will you?"

Helia lazily craned her neck, irritation shining through her eyes. The dragon then huffed, tightening her jaw on the deer carcass in her mouth and stalking a bit further away. She plopped down, noisily and messily eating her meal.

Bobbi crossed her arms with a huff, "Still mad at Peter, huh?"

Helia growled, " _Does he have any idea how humiliating this is_?"

A shrug, "Yeah, he can carry his own crap."

" _Not that!_ " Helia sighed, " _I mean, yes, that is annoying, but that's not why I'm cross with him_."

Bobbi sat down a bit away from the purple reptile, "Okay, why then?"

Helia didn't respond, continuing to eat her meal. It was only after she'd eaten about half the deer that she finally said, " _He is my_ Rider, _we are meant to fly through the sky together_."

Bobbi tilted her head, "I get that, but he is a full-grown adult, and you are still too small."

" _I am more than strong enough to carry him_!"

Bobbi cocked a brow, "And how do you know that?"

Helia snorted, turning away, " _You wouldn't understand."_

"Try me."

She stared at Bobbi, the intensity of her gaze making Bobbi a little anxious, before sighing, " _I just…_ know _."_

"Is it," Bobbi paused to collect her thoughts, "like a gut-feeling?"

Helia shook her head, " _No, it's…deeper than that. I,_ " she took a deep breath, " _Dragons are different from Humans—and Urgals, for that matter. We, Dragons, can call upon the memories—snippets, really—of our ancestors."_

Bobbi nodded in understanding, "And you're…remembering—by proxy—that a dragon of your size can carry someone of Peter's size?"

Helia titled her head, " _More-or-less_."

Bobbi cupped her chin, "Hmm…you're sure you'll be alright?"

" _Positive!_ "

"Well alright then," Bobbi nodded, "I'll help convince him."

" _Really?"_  Bobbi tried not to get annoyed at the genuine shock in Helia's voice.

"Yes. You can go for a flight after lunch."

Helia smiled—which was slightly disgusting, given the blood and guts stuck in her teeth. She then stilled, sniffing the air. " _Here they come._ "

Bobbi tilted her head, straining her ears. Faintly, she could hear two voices, exclaiming in joy. Sure enough, the two spider-empowered individuals landed in front of them; Kiruka, panting heavily, sweat dripping down her face, Peter, not even winded.

Bobbi nodded at the pair. "Great, you're here! I'll get the foodstuff. Oh, and you're going flying with Helia after lunch, Peter."

Her boyfriend paused, "Wait, wha—"

"You're flying with your dragon, after lunch" she repeated, not looking up from the pack containing the food.

"Uh, Bobbi—"

Bobbi lifted her head, staring blankly at him, "Did I stutter?"

Peter wisely kept his mouth shut as Helia chortled.

**Line Break**

Helia did not feel nervous. Dragons did not get nervous. No, if anything, the only reason her stomach felt queasy was because Peter's nerves were going haywire.

"Uh, Helia, are you okay?"

" _Perfectly fine!"_  she said a bit too hastily.

Peter stared at her, "Uh…you know I can't 'hear' you, right?"

The dragon blinked; she was still keeping him out? At once, she dropped her mental barriers. Her queasiness immediately disappeared.

"Woah," Peter breathed.

" _Did you feel that too?_ "

He frowned, "Yeah…"

His unease spilled over through their bond, introducing an entirely different queasiness. But Helia powered through, " _Peter, you are not getting out of this flight_ ," she forcefully stated.

But her Partner waved his hand, "It's not that. I'm just worried about the severity of our bond."

Helia frowned, " _You believe it is too weak?_ "

"No, I think it's too  _strong_."

That was a laugh. The dragon shook her head amusedly, " _That's ridiculous!"_

A flicker of raw emotion filtered through their bond, but before she could question it, Peter pat her flank, "Whatever, let's get up in the air."

That sent Helia's heart aflutter. Finally!

She crouched low to the ground, allowing Peter to swing a leg over her back. He sat down on the saddle, "Oh! This is actually pretty soft."

Helia snaked her head around, smiling at Peter, " _Glad you like it!"_  She waited for him to strap his legs against her sides. She couldn't help but think the straps were unnecessary—could he not just use his abilities to stick to the saddle? —but she waited until he was done. She then stood, lifting Peter high enough that his feet barely touched the ground.

"Oh, and we're moving."

Helia ignored him, instead focusing on the soil beneath her flexing claws. She flexed her back, and her wings shot open behind Peter.

"Woah! Warn a guy, would you?"

She replied, " _Hang on tight!"_  and broke into a sprint. Peter made some sort of noise, and leaned down, gripping the saddle tightly. Helia hopped a bit, flapping her wings, only to grimace and fall back onto all fours—the weight difference was noticeable, it would seem. Thus, she scanned ahead, grinning at the sight of a downed tree nestled atop a boulder. That could work.

She closed her wings flat against her back, picking up speed.

"Need some help?" Peter teased.

" _Quiet_ ," she hissed good-naturedly, coming up to her target.

She leapt forward, running along the felled tree. With a joyous cry, she jumped off it, wings extending to their full length, carrying the pair into the air.

Within seconds, she cleared the tree line.

From her back, Peter sighed, "Ah…I almost forgot how good the wind feels up here."

That was a surprise, " _You've been this high before?"_

"Higher."

" _You're lying!"_

Peter laughed, "I'm not!" He grunted, "Want to see?"

Helia blinked, hovering in place. How would flying higher prove he'd previously reached such heights? Then, a thought came to life in her mind. She gulped, " _You've never let me see your memories before…"_

"Do you not want to?"

" _No!"_  she then winced, " _I mean, I would, like to, Peter._ "

Peter chuckled, gently patting her neck, "Give me a minute."

He straightened, taking a deep breath. Helia took the moment of silence to stare out into the horizon. How far could they go, if they tried? Could they fly so far as to reach his homeland? She then snorted; she may not know much of Peter and Bobbi's past, but if it involved a deity then it must have been ridiculously far.

" _I think I'm ready_ ," Peter suddenly stated in her mind.

Wordlessly, Helia opened her mind.

Her world shifted, turning black. When she came too, she was looking out through eyes much less sharp than her own—less vibrant blues and greens. A cursory look down revealed that she was in a human's body—obviously Peter's—wearing an odd ensemble of red and blue, with black lines crisscrossing the clothing and what looked like a spider on his chest. But that all seemed very minimal compared to what laid below her.

Firstly, she was on an island—as evidenced by the sea and large, metallic bridges connecting the landmass to what she assumed to be the mainland. But there were also buildings—yet, not like the ones in the human hamlet she'd glimpsed at when she'd just hatched. No, these were tall, grand structures that shone in the glint of the sun. Looking down through Peter's eyes revealed that she was perched atop the spire of what might have been the tallest building—the wisps of clouds floating nearby.

" _W-Where is this?"_  she asked, awestruck.

" _This is Manhattan, my home_ ," Peter said in a soft, wistful voice.

" _It looks…I don't have words_."

She could feel him smirk at her,  _"Yeah…it's something special."_

And, just as suddenly as she was taken in, she was pushed out. The sensation was so odd, that she stopped flapping her wings.

"Uh, Helia!" Peter cried as they started to fall.

" _Hmm…oh!"_  With a grunt, Helia tilted her body downwards, snout first. After a moment of purposeful diving, Helia extended her wings, tilting her body up and rising into the air once more.

After a moment of steady flying, Peter finally said, "Well, that was exciting."

Helia chose to ignore the sarcasm, " _Yes, it was. Thank you again, for showing me your home_."

"Eh, it's only fair. You kept on sending me all those images of whatever caught your eye over the last month or so, so let's call it even."

Helia hummed, " _I would not mind doing that again._ "

Peter sighed, "Later, that took a bit more out of me than I expected."

Helia said nothing in reply, though she did bank left, back towards camp.

**Line Break**

Peter decided against flying for the rest of the day. Not that it wasn't an exhilarating experience, but he was 'tasked' with teaching Kiruka spider things, so he figured he should spend as much time with her as possible. Speaking of.

He looked over his shoulder, frowning at Kiruka—well, her landing point at any rate.

She realized her mistake as well, given the way her eye's widened and her hands frantically waved overhead, trying to grab a different branch. She could not. Luckily for her, the branch did not immediately break under her weight, allowing her to hop forward, clinging to the tree trunk as the branch tumbled to the ground.

Peter stopped just ahead of her, "Nice reflexes," he said. The young girl blushed, looking away from him. He then added, "Seriously, good move. You messed up but managed to keep from falling on your face. That's a pass in my book."

Her blush lessened slightly. "T-Thank you," she replied.

Peter nodded, looking up to the sky. "Sun's getting low…let's head back. Think you can get us there?"

Kiruka jerked back, pointing disbelievingly at herself. After Peter nodded that yes, he did ask her to lead them back, she grimaced, but turned around nonetheless.

Points to her, he only had to correct her twice on the way back.

When they returned, Helia was lounging by the fire, and Bobbi—given the way her hair stuck against her collarbone—was drying off from a bath. She was crouching by the fire, wearing the shirt that Peter was kidnapped in. It draped loosely over her body, sticking to the curves that hadn't fully dried.

It was only when Helia snorted, groggily lifting her head up, that Peter realized he was staring.

Helia stared at Peter for a moment, and when he felt her probing his mind he made sure that he was thinking on well Kiruka was coming into her powers. Then, she yawned, " _You know, I'm feeling hungry_."

"Good to know," Bobbi replied.

" _Kiruka, would you care to join me?_ "

The trio were taken aback, "Um…me?" Kiruka eventually asked.

Helia stood, arching her back, " _Yes. I would like some help carrying the carcass back here_."

Bobbi eyed the dragon suspiciously, "Uh…what? Since when do you need help with that?"

She eyed Bobbi with thinly veiled exasperation, " _Kiruka will need to practice her hunting skills, will she not? As well as how to maneuver through the trees while carrying something?"_

Peter crossed his arms, "I mean sure, but—"

" _Great_!" Helia hopped up, striding forward and nudging Kiruka with her snout, " _Come along, we're losing daylight!_ "

"Hey! Wa—hold on!" But the dragon ignored her protests, steadily moving then both along.

"H-Hey, Helia!" Peter called out.

His dragon paused, snaking her head around to look at him, then at Bobbi. She sighed, " _…Don't make too much of a mess._ " Before Peter could respond, Helia returned to her original task, disappearing into the brush.

"Uh…did she tell you 'don't make too much of a mess' too?"

Peter whirled around, "She was talking to you too?"

Bobbi stood, straightening her shirt. "Yeah…"

They stared at each other for a moment. Then two. Until Bobbi finally took the first step.

Peter marched to meet her, moaning as she grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him into a heated kiss. "Oh god," he groaned as they pulled apart, "I owe her so much for this! What do you think sh—mmph!" Bobbi silenced him with another kiss.

When she pulled back again, this time pulling off her shirt, she huskily whispered, "Peter, I'm grateful too, but I can think of much more useful things you can use that big mouth of yours for at the moment."

Peter smirked, pulling her close.

**A/N: That last bit might be the most explicit thing I've ever written…Regardless, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Hair balls

**Spider-Man and its assorted media are owned by Marvel. The Inheritance Cycle is property of Christopher Paolini.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

**Line Break**

Peter leaned back against his bedroll, "You know, thinking on it, it might have been better if you hadn't stayed."

Bobbi—who, in an effort to dry of faster, was sticking closer to the fire than Peter—cocked a brow, "You trying to tell me something, Parker?"

Peter (realizing his potential error) waved his hands frantically before him, "No, not that! It's just," he shrugged, "Probably wouldn't have gotten all worked up if you weren't constantly around. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?"

"Really?" Bobbi asked incredulously.

Peter shrugged, "I'm used to dry spells."

"God knows why," Bobbi muttered, biting her lip.

"Hmm?"

"Fair enough," she said aloud.

Peter grunted, crossing one leg over the other. "…I miss New York."

"Yes. Indoor plumbing; man's greatest invention."

"Not that—well, certainly that as well." He sighed, "I just…it's  _my_  city."

"Pretty sure there's an entire system of government that would disagree with you on that."

"You know what I mean," Peter groused.

Bobbi scoffed, "Still don't know why you're so worried; not like you're the only hero that operates in New York. Hell, you're not even the only Spider-Person that operates in New York."

Peter groaned, sitting up, "Sure. But I was one of the first— _the_ first on that second thing, quantum mechanics notwithstanding. But now, now I'm stuck on some medieval world, have a dragon attached to my hip—scratch that," he lifted his glowing palm, "my  _hand_ , have to train a teenager from a wholly different species how to 'be a Spider', and instead of focusing on that, or trying to get home, we're going to meet up with elves, so that I can be trained to fight in some war!" He was panting by the end of his speech.

Bobbi frowned sympathetically, "…Anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Peter stared at her for a moment, before falling back down, "Nah, think I'm good."

Bobbi sighed, stoking the fire, "So, what brought that on?"

"In an effort to bond with Helia, I showed her a memory of New York; looking down from the top of the Empire State Building."

"You can do that?"

A shrug, "She did it with me before she could speak. Wasn't too hard to figure out. But…it just dug up some irritation, you know?"

Bobbi stared at Peter, "…So long as you don't try and lash out at any of us, I think you're entitled to feeling a little pissed at our current situation."

"Oh, no need to worry about that," Peter swept his hand grandly in front of him, "I'll just keep it all bottled up inside until I collapse in on myself. Or explode and wreck a building," he added as an afterthought.

"Well, as long as you know what you're going to do," Bobbi teased.

**Line Break**

Helia kept an ear out for their campsite. It took at least 2 hours for the noises—those horrible,  _horrible_  noises—to cease. For the first time in her (admittedly short) life, she cursed her superior hearing.

She shook her head, swooping down and hovering before Kiruka—who was hanging upside down from a tree. " _I think we're done here_ ," she told the young Urgal.

Kiruka nodded, turning towards the direction of the camp—Helia made sure to stick East, regardless of what path they took—a light blush on her face, "S-So they are…?"

The young dragon blanched, " _I'd hoped to keep you ignorant of that…_ "

Kiruka scoffed, "I'm not a child, and for a 'hunter' you've been very noisy." Her blush deepened, "But I didn't think it could take that long!"

A snort, " _That makes two of us_."

Kiruka turned, grinning toothily at Helia. "But still, thank you for taking me away. It was a pleasant trip."

Helia nodded, wings taking her forward, " _Let's head back_ ," and lead the way to their campsite.

After a time, she told Kiruka, " _You're very graceful."_  Kiruka stumbled at the compliment, nearly crashing into a tree. Helia swooped down, " _I'm terribly sorry for breaking your concentration!"_

"No, no. It's fine!" the Urgal assured the Dragon, "Thank you. It's just…compared to Peter, and you, I'm not much."

Helia preened at the compliment, before sobering, and smiling at Kiruka, " _You give yourself too little credit. Peter is a man grown, with years of experience with your shared powers, and I am a dragon, the most graceful of all creatures._ " She ignored Kiruka's amused snort, " _You simply need time. Besides_ ," she leaned in closer, lips pulling back into a conspiratorial smile, " _Of all of us, Bobbi is by far the least graceful. She merely runs everywhere._ "

Kiruka giggled softly, before leaping through the trees once again.

The continued on in silence. Until a strange scent entering Helia's nostrils. Coming from the camp. She moaned, loudly.

"What's wrong?" Kiruka asked, a tad worried.

" _Nothing you need to concern yourself with,"_  she groused, body betraying her by taking in more and more sniffs of this strange,  _terrible,_ new scent.

Kiruka stared at her, before continuing on as normal—well, normal enough for a dragon and humanoid with spider powers.

By the time they made it back, Peter and Bobbi had set-up all their bedrolls. She reopened her link to her Rider. He started to say something, but Helia cut him off, " _Don't…don't say anything."_ She then muttered, " _You're welcome. Let's leave it at that._ " Her Rider smiled and moved forward to pat her snout. Only for her to quickly back away, nose going haywire, " _Please, don't."_

Peter frowned, and his eyes trained in on her twitching nostrils. He blushed heavily. He made some hurried promise of taking greater care to clean up afterwards, but Helia had already cut him off, stalking as far away as she could, while still keeping them all in sight.

**Line Break**

"You know I'm right."

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm not saying that you're not, Bobbi. But she—"

"Needs to learn how to fight."

"She's barely gotten confident at basic movement!"

"But you said she's started to do tricks on her own, haven't you?"

Peter grit his teeth. It took only a few days for Kiruka to grow self-confident enough in her leaps and jumps for Peter to not feel it necessary to watch over her every step. But this…

"Peter, we're going join up with an  _army_!"

"You think I don't know that?" he heatedly replied. "Or have you forgotten that I'm supposed to be their trump card? Cause I haven't!"

Bobbi's scowl disappeared, replaced by a sympathetic stare, "I always forget that you've never participated in an  _actual_  war."

He scoffed, "What, alien invasions don't count?"

"How many people have you purposefully killed, again?"

Peter whistled lowly, "Wow, going right for the throat, huh?"

"You might have to, soon."

His eyes hardened, "No."

"Peter…"

"Bobbi, I can think of a lot," he stamped down the anger growing in his heart, " _a lot_  of people I want to kill, conscripted soldiers aren't among them!"

She narrowed her eyes, "Didn't stop you from killing that Keznika, or Ra'zac, or whatever it's called."

He grit his teeth, "That was an accident!"

Bobbi scowled, swiping the space between them, "We're getting off topic!" She stepped back, taking a deep breath. "Ok…how many times did you almost die because you didn't know how to throw a punch?"

Briefly, Peter recalled his  _humiliating_  defeat at the hands of a mind-controlled Spider-Woman. And then his (only somewhat satisfying, really) win when she, once again, fought him while under mind-control after training with Shang-Chi. (Briefly, he mused that he should be more concerned about the fact that his peers—and himself—are constantly put under mind-control).

Shaking his head clear of his errant thoughts, he sighed. "…Okay, okay." He waved his arm, "You're right."

Bobbi rolled her eyes, "Thanks for finally noticing."

They waited until a couple hours after lunch to tell Kiruka their plan.

The young woman blinked, "Oh! Are you…I mean, I'm not going to complain it's just…"

Bobbi shrugged, "Unless you'd rather wait for the elves to teach you."

That made Kiruka scowl, "There's nothing they can teach me!"

Not for the first time, Peter wondered what was up with the Elves of this world. To be sure, he didn't spend much time with the Urgals—to say nothing of the fact that the village they stayed at was practically empty—but still, the ones that he'd talked to (at least, talked to through Rushez) didn't seem to hate Elves; they were a little wary that Kiruka was leaving with a pair of humans and a dragon, but not incensed that she leaving for the Elves country.

He thought back on her family motto—'Guard your mouth' he recalled. A warning against Elves, she'd called it. Obviously, her family had personal dealings with them, negative ones. But even then, her father didn't seem to carry the same hate-torch for elves.

Well…they'd deal with it when it became a problem.

"Come on," Bobbi said, gesturing for Kiruka to follow. The Urgal hesitated, looking at Peter.

He waved a hand dismissively, "Bobbi can teach basics far better than I do."

"The 'basics'?" Kiruka parroted.

"My fighting style is a bit…advanced," Peter said.

"Crazy advanced," Bobbi added.

" _What does that mean_?" Helia lifted her head up, tilting it to the side, " _It's just punching and kicking, is it not_?"

Peter clicked his tongue, "It's a lot more than that," he then elaborated, "I target nerve-clusters and throw my opponents everywhere."

Kiruka stared blankly at him, "You target what?"

Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "There are…areas on the body—usually around the joints—that, if hit in a specific way, are very painful." At her increasingly blank stare, he asked, "Do Urgals have a funny bone?" She blinked. He gestured to his elbow, "If you bang your elbow against something at a bad angle, does it hurt a lot?"

At that she nodded. And then gasped, "You mean that can happen in other places?"

Peter shrugged, "Not on accident, but yes."

She blanched, though there was a gleam in her eyes, "And…you're going to teach me to do that?"

Peter could recognize the eagerness in her voice, but in what way she was eager, he couldn't say. But he was really hoping it was just youthful enthusiasm. Nevertheless, he said, "You're skipping ahead a few steps." He gestured to a tree to his right, "Let's start with the first step." He walked over, pausing briefly to make sure Kiruka was beside him.

He tapped the tree trunk, "Punch this tree as hard as you can."

Kiruka narrowed her eyes, "A-Are you sure? Because you said—"

"I know," Peter cut her off.

The young Urgal gulped, but moved in front of the tree nonetheless. She took a couple deep breaths, lifting her arm up and curling her hand into a fist.

Peter clicked his tongue, leaning forward, "For future reference," he said as he grabbed her hand, opening it and repositioning her thumb, "the thumb goes on the  _outside_  of the fist." Kiruka hummed, tightening her correctly formed fist.

"Now," Peter said, "keep your chin up, keep your shoulders square—no, no, move your left foot forward a bit. Yeah, there you go—now, step forward and jab your fist forward, hard as you can."

Kiruka took a couple deep breaths, and then jabbed forward with a grunt. There was a cacophonous  _CRACK_  as her fist impacted, and then drove into the tree. Which had the unfortunate consequence of moving her forward further than she'd intended. By the time her journey was done, the tree had a sizeable crack running up it, and her cheek pressed up against the tree trunk, arm sunk in up to the shoulder.

"… _Impressive,_ " Helia eventually said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, very," Kiruka said, face still mushed against the tree, "Can someone help me, please?"

Peter nodded, chuckling hesitantly, "Yeah…hold still." He walked over, gently grabbing her shoulders, "Just…pull back, slowly." She did so, wincing at the sound of her fabric tearing as her arm came free. Kiruka groaned, staring at her torn sleeve. Peter winced, "That shirt wasn't a gift or something sentimental, was it?"

"No, no," Peter sighed in relief, "I just…hate sewing."

At that Peter shrugged, "Eh, don't worry about it. I'll do it for you."

"You sew?" She asked incredulously.

"He's an artist," Bobbi teased.

"Joke's on you," Peter snarked back, "I've saved a fortune on clothing expenses." He then said to Kiruka, "Anyway, now that you've  _seen_  what you can do at full strength, I want you to remember that." He set his face into a stern frown, "I don't know where your life's going to take you, but if its anything like mine, you'll get into a lot of fight's. Fights with people a lot less sturdy than trees." It took a moment for her to realize what he meant, but when she did, she paled, and stared at her arms, trembling slightly.

He hummed, gently placing his hand her shoulder, "Hey, hey. I'm not saying this to make you afraid of yourself," he said gently, "I just want you to be careful. Make you aware of exactly what you can do. Now," Peter turned, gesturing to another tree, "Hit this tree now. With less a lot less force."

Kiruka gulped, but strode forward nonetheless. She entered the same stance as before, and after a moment's hesitation, threw out a punch. She didn't punch a hole into the tree, but she did splinter the bark, shaking loose a few leaves.

"Again," Peter said.

Kiruka shifted over a bit and punched the tree again. And again, and again. It wasn't until her sixth strike that Peter was satisfied she wasn't putting any super-strength into her strike. "That's perfect," he called out to her, "Remember that level of strength."

Kiruka shook her hand, nodding at his words, "Yes, Rahjot."

Peter then, "Ready to give it," he gestured at Bobbi, who waved, "a go?" The young girl nodded.

Bobbi sighed, "Alright then. Come over here, let's get started."

They moved a bit away from the campsite, during which, Peter walked over to Helia. "Let's give them some space," he said.

She nodded, rising to a kneeling position,  _"Let us take to the air,_ " she told him. " _Also,_ " she began as he stepped into the saddle, " _how tall was that building you showed me in your memory?_ "

"About one-thousand three-hundred feet," Peter automatically answered, strapping his legs in. He then paused, "…Why?"

She didn't immediately answer him, merely humming to herself. When he pat her neck and repeated his question, she answered,  _"Do you think you can keep a mental check of that height?"_  She broke into a run, searching for a launching off point, _"I want to know when we beat it!"_

Peter blinked, "Helia that's dangerous—"

" _Don't coddle me, Peter!"_  she hissed,  _"I am a dragon, no matter how y_ —"

"For me," he cut her off, "it's dangerous for me."

The dragon slid to a stop, pitching Peter forward slightly. She snaked her neck around, worry shining in her gaze. " _What do you mean?"_  she asked, tone grave.

Peter sighed, gently rubbing her flank, "Humans aren't built for rapid changes in altitude—height," he added at her confused grunt, "it makes us sick."

" _Sick how?"_

Peter shrugged, "Nausea, dizziness, fainting. It varies from person-to-person. Now, to be fair, I'm not a normal human being. Barring very unusual circumstances, I can ignore those effects." He shivered, "But I can't ignore the cold."

" _The cold?"_  she parroted.

"Yeah, the higher above the ground you go, the colder it gets."

" _Why?"_

"It's…complicated." At her pleading purr, he said, "Okay, give me a second…There's this thing called the atmosphere surrounding the planet—don't ask me why it's there, we will be here all day," he added when he saw the question forming in her eyes. She huffed but said nothing. He continued, "Now, the atmosphere is a pressure that keeps the air we breathe on the planet, but, as you go further into the air, it gets weaker. This allows the air to…escape its grasp, so to speak, expand rapidly, and cool down."

" _So,"_  Helia began,  _"The atmosphere…it keeps us warm?"_

"Partly, yes."

" _And_ ,  _it does this by…compacting air?_ " At his nod, she continued, " _And at great heights—altitudes—it loses power, releasing air, which then makes it expand, and cools it down?"_

"It's a  _lot_  more complicated than that, but you've got the gist of it."

" _But what does it mean?_ " she asked,  _"Are you saying that you will freeze to death after we reach a certain height?"_

"Not all at once," Peter said gently, "but if we stay for too long, I  _will_ get cold."

Helia hummed for a moment, before nodding, " _Very well,_ " she said,  _"Inform me the very second you feel even the slightest discomfort_!"

Peter chuckled, petting her neck, "Don't worry, I'll be sure to let you know."

**Line Break**

A loud roar overhead distracted Kiruka, making her turn to see Helia performing some twirls as Peter clung to her back.

_WUHWUHZZT_

Kiruka gasped as the back of her head buzzed, and, following her instincts as Peter had taught her, leaned back as far as she could bend. She smirked as Bobbi's closed fist hit nothing but air.

_WUHWUHZZT_

Kiruka blinked when the buzzing returned; she then yelped as Bobbi's leg swept her own, sending her crashing to the ground.

She groaned as she squirmed slightly on the ground, sun baring down on her. Then, Bobbi stepped in and blocked the light, arm outstretched. "Two things," the human said, "One: don't ever take your eyes off your opponent. Two: It's always astounding how shortsighted you precogs can be."

Kiruka accepted the arm, pulling herself up with a grunt. "Precogs?" she asked, repeating the strange word under her breath.

"Short for 'precognition'," Bobbi explained, "Which is the fancy way of describing your spider-sense; you know, sensing things that are about to happen."

Kiruka nodded, "Ok, but," she bit her lip, "I  _did_  sense your kick coming."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Bobbi said, entering her stance once more, "But it didn't keep you from falling on your butt, did it?"

Kiruka blushed, and entered the same, if rougher, stance as Bobbi, "No," she admitted bashfully. Bobbi gestured for her to start, and Kiruka began to throw out a steady stream of punches.

In-between correcting her form, Bobbi said to Kiruka, "I'm sure Peter will tell you this, but you can't just coast through fights on your precognition." Kiruka felt that tell-tale buzz but was unable to stop Bobbi from grabbing her fist and throwing her over her shoulder. As Kiruka fell on her back for the second time in less than half-an-hour, Bobbi leaned down, a stern frown on her face, "Because in a fight between an untrained precog and an experienced fighter, nine times out of ten, the precog loses."

Kiruka nodded solemnly, and once more accepted Bobbi's arm to rise to her feet. After which, Bobbi sighed, "Sorry about the shoulder toss, but I can't afford to coddle you."

Kiruka nodded, "I understand, Jikkolu," at Bobbi's confused frown, Kiruka added, "It means, um, 'War Teacher'."

"'War Teacher', huh?" Bobbi smirked, "I'll take it." Kiruka smiled back, and the two began training once again.

By the time Bobbi deemed the lesson finished, the sun was just beginning to dip down the horizon, and Kiruka was certain that, come the morning, she'd be more blue than gray. Not that Bobbi ever threw an actual punch; no, she just tossed her around like a child would a toy. To be sure, Bobbi was never malicious about it, and she did go into explanations as to how she could escape the grapples, but after a week of reveling in her newfound abilities, it was a bit of a blow to her ego.

But, so long as she was the best she could be before they met up with the Elves…well, then it'd be worth it.

_WUHWUHZZT_

Kiruka frowned, tilting her head up to see if she could find where Helia was about to land. It was only after she not only saw that the dragon was still nowhere in sight, but that the buzzing was slowly intensifying, that she shot up to her feet, whirling around with wide eyes.

Bobbi, previously drinking from a water skin, leapt forward, pressing her back against Kiruka's. "What is it?" she asked as she scanned the trees.

Kiruka gulped, shaking her head, "I..I don't know. But it's coming from…there!" she exclaimed, pointing to her left.

Bobbi moved quickly, pushing Kiruka behind her and bringing her fingers to her lips. First, she whistled loudly, so loud that Kiruka had to cover her ears to keep them from ringing. Then, she shouted, "Come out now and I promise I won't break too many bones!"

Nothing happened after that, though Kiruka's spider-sense never ceased its warning signals.

"C'mon, c'mon," Bobbi whispered, eyes flicking up towards the darkening sky, "I thought you were supposed to have good hearing."

_GRRRR_

Kiruka froze as her spider-sense reached a fever pitch, coinciding with two golden circles, both bisected by a thin black line, appeared in the tree line.

Kiruka paled, "Wh-Wh-What is that?!"

Bobbi, thankfully, sounded more confused than scared, "Sounds like some sort of leopard."

"W-What's a le—!" Kiruka's voice failed her as the thing the eyes were attached to rose, crawling along a branch and into the fading sunlight.

"A type of big cat."

And big it was. It had coal-black fur that made its burn brighter by contrast. Its fangs were large and stark white, and Kiruka had no doubt that it's jaw was powerful enough to snap her bones in two. It was also, disturbingly, well-built; she could see its tendons and muscles expand and contract as it crawled further along its chosen branch, never taking its eyes off of them. Not even when it leapt over to reach another branch.

Which turned out to be a mistake, as it overshot its landing point by a wide margin, smacking into the tree's trunk.

" _GAH!_ " A soft masculine voice suddenly cried, " _Oof! Ah! Dammit!"_  the voice continued, in time with the beast as it crashed to the ground.

Kiruka blinked, "D-Did you—"

"Yeah, I heard it too," Bobbi simply answered.

" _Heeheehee!"_  a high-pitched, feminine voice called out, from out of nowhere, starling the human and Urgal, " _Told ya you were going to mess up!"_

The beast groaned, lifting its head to glare at a tree to its left, " _Oh, shut up!_ "

Kiruka and Bobbi followed its gaze, bemused as an orange-furred kitten slowly revealed itself—herself, Kiruka internally corrected. She was still laughing at her larger counterpart, " _And you spent all that time going, 'This is going to be so cool! Gonna freak them out so much!'_ "

The beast roared, " _Shut up, Zoe!"_

"Uh, hi?" Bobbi said, directing the two cat's attention towards them, "Someone want to explain why a panther and a tabby are arguing in front of us."

" _Panther?"_  the kitten repeated, making her way down her tree, " _Is that what Kamren's supposed to be now?"_

Before Bobbi could answer, the two felines, stilled, and the now-named Kamren lifted his head up, hissing into the sky. Zoe quickly scrambled towards him, hiding herself behind her flank.

Kiruka felt a short buzz of her spider-sense and darted her eyes up to see a massive shape in the air zooming towards their location. There was a loud, ear-shattering roar, and Helia landed with a mighty  _BOOM_ , glaring and snarling in Kamren's direction. Peter leapt off her saddle, landing right beside them in a low crouch.

A pause. "Is that a black panther?" he asked

"A telepathic black panther," Bobbi replied, "along with a telepathic tabby kitten."

Peter frowned, leaning forward despite Kamren's snarling face, "…Oh, now I see it. Pretty adorable, actually."

" _Thank you!_ " Zoe chirped, briefly peeking her head out from behind Kamren. Eyes still fixed on Helia, he snapped at the kitten, and she quickly darted back behind him.

Peter rose to his full height, slowly walking towards Helia, "Okay, how about we all calm down?" But Helia merely growled louder, crouching lower to the ground. "Helia, come on."

" _They smell strange!_ " she snarled.

Peter rolled his eyes, "They're a pair of psychic cats, I doubt that's 'normal'."

She snapped her jaws, prompting Kamren to swipe a paw in the air, " _It's more than that! The big one especially; he smells like Anansi!"_

Kiruka gasped; this great beast had something in common with a god? Peter was struck by her words as well, given the way he jerked back, staring Kamren with wide-eyes. "Uh…are you a god?"

The big feline chuffed, glaring at nothing in particular, " _No…but I have met one._ " His lips curled in distaste, " _Called herself Bast_."

"Bast?" Peter repeated, "Why wo—oh my god." He groaned, slapping his forehead, "You're Black Panther."

Bobbi let out a soft groan and, to Kiruka's utter confusion, uttered, "Why didn't I see that?"

" _My name is Kamren, actually_ ," Kamren said.

"No," Peter shook his head, "I mean you're  _the_  Black Panther." At Kamren's blank stare, he elaborated, "I don't know all the specifics, but back home there's a guy—a king—that is the latest in a long line of 'Black Panther's' chosen as Bast's champions or heralds or whatever."

" _That…would explain a lot, actually_." Kamren then shook his head, " _Okay, I think we need to talk—and properly introduce ourselves."_  Kamren grunted lightly, and then his body convulsed and shrank in on itself, black fur receding along his body. "I'm Kamren," he gestured to the cat behind him, "and this is Zoe."

Kiruka gasped when a human, a little shorter than her, garbed in a purple jerkin and blue pants, dark brown hair that gently covered his eyes, rose unsteadily to his feet. "You're a Ghutrilu! A skinchanger," she added at Peter and Bobbi's confused stares.

"We prefer Werecats, actually," that was Zoe, who had also morphed into a human form; this one having pale skin, yellow hair, sky-blue eyes, and a long green dress that almost covered her feet.

Peter gazed up at the sky, "…Don't see a full moon."

Kamren swept his hair aside, and it was then that Kiruka saw that his eyes were a deep emerald green, cocked a brow in Peter's direction, and said, "I don't know what that means, and I don't think I care at the moment."

"I do!"

"Not now, Zoe."

The younger Werecat stuck her tongue out at the elder, showing off her catlike fangs in the process.

Bobbi sighed, pinching her nose, "Okay, I'll get a fire started. Everyone just…settle in."

As she left to do that, and Peter walked over to comfort a still wary Helia, Zoe skipped over to Kiruka. The young Urgal tried not to shiver as the supernatural child stared up at her with startlingly intelligent eyes. Zoe hummed, "You know, I've never met an Urgal before."

Kiruka smiled nervously, "Well, I've never met a Gh—Werecat, before," she corrected herself.

Zoe smiled brightly, once more showing off her fangs. She then grabbed one of Kiruka's hand in her own, pulling her towards the burgeoning campfire, "C'mon, let's swap stories!"

"I apologize on her behalf," Kiruka jumped, whirling around to find Kamren just a few feet to her left—how was he so quiet? "She's still in that 'curious kitten' phase."

Kiruka chuckled as Zoe pulled a face, but nevertheless entertained the young Werecat as everyone waited for Bobbi to start the fire.

**A/N: I know that there are more problems at high altitudes than just the cold, but honestly the cold seems like the more immediate concern for a (super) guy in medieval clothing. I never could reconcile how Eragon was able to fly high with Saphira in the first book and only stopped because another flying creature tried to kill them…unless Bound Dragons subconsciously use their magic to keep their Rider warm and protect them from altitude sickness…Anyway, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


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